


Loot Me Tender

by Falconette



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged Up, Awkward Romance, Body perception issues, F/M, First Time, Romance, Sexual Intercourse, Slow Build, handjob, mastrubation, virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26127514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falconette/pseuds/Falconette
Summary: A story about falling in love. Aged up. Nice.I never thought I would be writing a romance with Kenma, but here we are.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Reader
Comments: 76
Kudos: 233





	1. 1

_(explanations copied from various internet sources)_

_genkan - traditional Japanese entryway areas for a house, apartment, or building, something of a combination of a porch and a doormat. It is usually located inside the building directly in front of the door and shoes are left there_

_konbini – a small convenience store_

_o jama shimasu - “I will disturb you” or “I will get in your way.” It is used as a polite greeting when entering someone's house._

_itadakimasu - literally means "I humbly recieve". Can be put in the place of saying grace. Most often said before eating._

**LOOT ME TENDER**

**Chapter 1**

“It will only take 30 minutes, an hour tops,” Kuroo’s trademark smile radiated in my direction as his fingers nimbly went through the sequence of punching in a code without his conscious attention. He was all gallantness without an eye-contact and I realised I was growing angry with myself for succumbing to his glib manipulation, again. I had met him after work for an evening of a casual wining and dining somewhere preferably private, but was not very surprised when I realised the train we were taking was headed in the direction of his friend’s house. Again.

The front door clicked open and he pushed it further inwards with one hand to let me in, announcing my arrival with his raised voice, “Kenma, I will be back in a flash! You can order a dinner while you wait!”

Stripped of other options, I obliged and stepped into genkan to take my shoes off, unsure whether Kuroo didn’t notice or pretended not to see passive aggression in my listless demeanour. From what I’ve learned about him so far, it was probably the latter, but I was still at the point where I was ready to grant him the benefit of the doubt.

Without spending another moment to properly say goodbye, his rooster head was already receding down the road with a parting wink that was supposed to be charming, a mobile phone pressed to his ear.

_“Be right back,”_ he mouthed before answering the phone with a formal introduction in his deep, smooth voice, “Good evening, Kuroo Tetsuro speaking on behalf of sports promotion division of the Japan Volleyball Association. Yes, how have you been? About the fundraiser we were discussing, I am just on my way to…”

Incidentally, I seemed to have developed an interest in the man who proved to be more slippery than an eel, but who didn’t outright shun my attention either. The biggest problem was getting him to sit down and commit to, well, anything really. He would text and call me during scarce free moments between assignments, but as weeks passed, I wondered if he really had the time for a relationship. Or the will.

We didn’t have to start dating right away, but having an uninterrupted conversation without his damn cell phone ringing or once in a while enjoying a nice dinner…

“If he said to order dinner, that means he will be eating elsewhere.”

Kenma’s voice was as subdued as always, in a stark contrast to his eyes that vividly followed fierce action on an over-dimensioned screen which took up most of the living room wall. I could swear I heard a tinge of pity in his matter-of-fact declaration that served instead of a greeting, but even that was an improvement.

First couple of times when Kuroo left me waiting at Kenma’s place ‘just to meet some tight deadlines’ were evenings spent in awkward silences and even more awkward attempts at a conversation. I wouldn’t say that Kenma warmed up to the notion of having unsolicited strangers coming over, but I guess I had been promoted to the status of an uninvited guest he could tolerate.

When he realised he didn’t have to play a cordial host, that I would ask no questions about him living a Peter Pan fantasy alone in a rented family house, about his sloppily dyed hair or about what _did_ he do for a living, Kenma relaxed in my presence. Meaning, most of the time he would continue playing video games like I wasn’t there but, remembering his initial reaction, I appreciated the progress while I endlessly waited for Kuroo to deign us with his presence.

“O jama shimasu,” uttering in a quiet, mechanic voice, I walked into the spacious room in my socks, depositing konbini plastic bags beside a low table that was one of scarce pieces of furniture here, taking my time. It was kind of Kenma to decipher the real meaning behind Kuroo’s words for me, maybe to prevent me from getting my foolish hopes up – he had known him since forever, after all – but this time he shouldn’t have bothered.

Like it or not, I had already figured it out; Kuroo wasn’t coming back any time soon.

“Here, I got this for you,” I passed him a cooled bottle of his favourite soft drink. Expectedly, he didn’t make an eye-contact but eventually did reach out. It was the least I could do for his patient bearing of my intrusions and we were in the middle of a scorching August evening, so the flicker of appreciation in his eyes was clearly visible in glare of the screen.

While his game room was equipped with a state-of-the-art air conditioning – with state-of-the-art _everything_ – the leaks and aged carpentry of the old living room would need a lot of restoration before it could earn an energy certificate. The trapped air in the semi-dark room was stuffy and warm. Finding him here, instead of snugly reclining in his gaming sofa and precisely concocted atmosphere of cool temperature and low humidity, did seem a bit peculiar, but if I started listing all peculiar things about Kenma, I would pull an all-nighter. 

One by one, I continued producing snacks and canned drinks I bought in a store next to a train station until the little shopping bag was empty, just like my expectations for the night. Noticing that Kenma opened his drink and accepted my gift seemed like a spark of light in the gloom as I wondered if it was acceptable to feel stood up by somebody who never really agreed to date you anyway.

Lost in thoughts, I opened the first can that was within my reach and took a sip without really feeling the taste behind frizzy bubbles, and let my eyes wander in the general direction of the screen. Kenma steered a character through psychedelically green field of a MMORPG game crowded by equally psychedelic characters whose constant motion was accompanied by explosions of colours and sounds. Too detached, I couldn’t find a meaning in their choreography so I just stared blankly ahead, questioning my taste in men, until Kenma’s voice brought me back. 

“So,… are you hungry?”

I stole a glance in his direction, just a fleeting acknowledgment, nothing that would make him withdraw into his shell, mostly to confirm that I didn’t imagine hearing it. His face was still turned to the screen but his fingers held the controller motionlessly. Half-hidden behind long hair, his eyes watched me with a wary tension.

Unaccustomed to Kenma being proactive, it took me a moment to realise he was making an effort, trying to make me feel good and my heart suddenly plunged into new depths of self-pitying. If an uncombed game-otaku who spends his days in baggy track pants and nerdy T-shirts feels sorry for a girl that was wasting her time waiting on his elusive friend, I must seem pretty desperate.

I didn’t feel like eating a single bite at the moment, but I didn’t want to hurt Kenma’s feelings either. Especially since this was the first time he acted remotely host-like.

I reluctantly nodded, “But we’ll order only if you eat something too.”

The only times I saw Kenma consume anything substantial was when Kuroo would finally arrive and bother to bring a takeaway with him. Even so, I always felt that Kenma ate just to get his friend out of his hair and not because he appreciated the food or acknowledged his biological need to replenish energy reserves.

I didn’t plan to make a gourmet out of him, but I didn’t plan on eating all alone in his company either. I still haven’t sunk that low.

Kenma nodded in return and for awhile we both sat in silence.

“I can order…” he opened his mouth just as I said,

“Do you want me to…”, which plunged us into a few more moments of one waiting for the other to finish.

Seeing this was going nowhere, I proposed to call a restaurant Kenma usually ordered from and he agreed with a relief, quietly giving me their number and letting me know which dishes he wished to dine on.

While we waited for the food to arrive, finally finding a solid purpose to linger here, I watched him play on. Reluctantly, he offered explanations about game objectives and mechanics, turning the chaos I witnessed into a meaningful strategy. In fact, once I could appreciate his skill, watching him play made the time fly by.

When the doorbell rang I half stood-up, giving unflinching Kenma a questioning look. A part of me was still hoping it was Kuroo, even though I knew he used the entry code and not a bell, but Kenma’s passivity surprised me. Without taking his eyes off the screen or fingers from the controller, he explained in an even voice:

“The delivery man knows me. He just leaves the package at the door and I pick it up later.”

“Later?” I repeated, puzzled. I knew Kenma avoided unnecessary interaction with people, but didn’t realise it went this far.

I took in his messy bun, his bare feet and a formless shirt, also the intensity with which he delved into the virtual world like living in the real one was just a necessary evil. Was he a recluse? I didn’t know much about him really, like if he ever went out. Judging by his transparent complexion, unlikely. Did he choose to live like this or was he a prisoner of his anxieties?

Feeling my gaze upon him made Kenma stop playing and look up, suddenly self-conscious. He stooped his already hunched shoulders appearing smaller, wishing to be invisible, to shake off my pesky attention.

He turned his back to me.

“Yes, later. When I finish whatever I’m doing,” his voice was barely audible over his deliberately loud barefooted steps and the sound of door opening with too much vehemence.

From what I already knew about Kenma, I was willing to bet that ordered food was left out for hours on more than one occasion, just because he got so engrossed in a game he forgot all about it.

“Well, it’s better to eat while it’s still warm,” I attempted a smile, trying to smooth things over. “Or do you want to finish the campaign first?”

“No, it is ok. Let me find some chopsticks,” Kenma murmured, placed the package on the table between us and disappeared into the kitchen. Back to square one. There was something jumpy about his movements, like he only now realised he would have to sit and eat facing me, the only other person in the room. “Maybe we could watch something? A movie?”

There it was, his exit strategy. No wonder he was best friends with a guy who was a master of the same art. But that wasn't really fair; Kenma had nothing on Kuroo when it came to slithering out of sticky situations.

The voice that came from the kitchen was an odd mixture of jittery effort and an urge to retreat into his gaming room and close the door behind him, as he was known to do before. Realising it couldn’t have possibly taken him this long to find two pairs of chopsticks, especially since the food came with disposable cutlery, I sighed. This was going to be a long night. Kuroo, where the heck were you?

With the three of us here, this wouldn’t be half as awkward, but I couldn’t really be complaining because I was the one imposing on Kenma. So I decided to make this easier for the both of us.

“Sure,” I assured him with a voice that made his proposal sound like the best idea ever. Maybe it indeed was the best idea of the evening. “What do you want to watch?”

I wondered if I asked the impossible question that would leave us in another dead-end, when Kenma responded, still not emerging from safety of the kitchen, “Kuro said you liked European movies. I have some on USB, just switch the source on smart TV.”

_Did he?_ My heart started beating faster. It seemed the busy guy was not too busy to attentively listen to my talks after all. Maybe I just mistook Kuroo’s bustling schedule for disinterest. I started humming a melody, unable to fight a budding smile.

With my mood considerably improving, I scrolled through movie titles, for the first time aware how beckoning the freshly prepared food smelled and how hungry I really was. I took a peek in the boxes, feeling my mouth water. He might not be keen on quantity, but Kenma sure didn’t skimp on quality of his food. The restaurant he ordered from was far from a back-alley grease hole.

I registered Kenma’s unobtrusive presence only when I saw him join me at the table, as he had an almost supernatural ability to move without making a sound and without drawing attention to himself. By that time, I have spread out the dishes across tabletop and have discreetly put away the chopsticks that came with them, taking instead the pair that Kenma offered.

“Itadakimasu,” I smiled a genuine smile, registering how Kenma’s eyes took note of my lifted spirits and again relaxed a bit. Why was this man so tense all the time? I have to remember to bring something stronger than soft drinks with me, that could help him loosen up a bit. Maybe, when Kuroo and I start going out, we can take him with us, repay for his hospitality.

In response, Kenma mumbled an inaudible ‘itadakimasu’ before turning his attention to the screen that now showed a beginning of an Italian movie. At least the fields of Toscana were far less garish than depictions of nature in his online game. Not to mention, they seemed much cosier.

Instead of dining out with slick Kuroo in his even slicker suit, I was sharing an ordered meal with a guy wearing basically his pyjamas, a guy who was chronically uncomfortable in his own skin. A fleeting notion passed through my mind, of an empty house, of meals for one eaten in front of the oversized screen and how lonely Kenma must be from time to time. The two couldn’t be more different and yet they were close friends.

Did Kuroo come here to find refuge from hustle and bustle of his hectic world? If so, what did Kuroo do for Kenma?

* * * 

By the time Kuroo finally arrived, the dinner had been long eaten and Kenma and I were lounging on the floor, engrossed in the movie finale, sharing an occasional comment.

He came in with a loud greeting, carrying in a smell of cigarettes that earned an open scrunching of nose from Kenma, and gave us his disarming smile before I had a chance to open my mouth, “Sorry, sorry, I was on my way here when I ran into a guy I know, so we shared a drink to catch up.”

Kuroo’s narrow eyes quickly took in the scene before him, “But I see that you carried on without me splendidly.”

Kenma turned his head away, half embarrassed, half displeased, but that didn’t seem to discourage his friend from popping his head into the kitchen like he owned the place.

“Ohh, you ordered salted mackerel and didn’t save any for me?” Kuroo sounded genuinely disappointed.

I caught Kenma’s conspiratorial glance and a fleeting expression that softened corners of his lips into a rare smile that suited him well. That explained why the leftovers were conspicuously strewn on display across the counter instead of being deposited in a trash bin.

I felt a self-content smile tugging at my mouth, as I spoke loud enough for Kuroo to hear me over noises he made while washing his hands, “Not only that, you missed a good movie too.”

“A shame,” Kuroo appeared again, loosening his tie with one finger in a strangely intimate gesture, his hair and his voice the only things about him that didn’t appear tired. I wondered how sustainable his lifestyle was, or healthy. Even so, I was struck by his handsome, tall figure, wishing to be somewhere alone with him, forgetting the short-lived connection I established with Kenma. “Hey, maybe we can arrange a movie night this Saturday. The dinner will be my treat, for today.”

Both Kenma and I gave him incredulous looks; on my part for the audacity to invite me to his friend’s place instead to his apartment or anywhere else, really.

Kenma, without really rejecting the plan, commented in his even tone: “You have two games to watch on Saturday.”

“That should be wrapped up by 4 PM,” Kuroo inspected scattered cans and bottles, looking for an unopened one then just sat back when his search proved fruitless. His body language revealed how drained he was.

“Press conference starts at 5,” Kenma pointed out dispassionately, but I didn’t catch his usual vibe when he was argumentative against something. He was merely pointing out the facts. Maybe even looking for a solution. The situation seemed more and more bizarre. Nobody even asked me if I could make it, taking for granted I would hang out with them. Have I just been friendzoned?

“So? I can be here by 6:30,” Kuroo closed his eyes, a shadow of irritation passing across his brow. Never before seeing his polished façade waver, I was suddenly impressed by Kenma. Like with the controller, he clearly knew how to push his friend’s buttons.

“7:30 would be more realistic,” Kenma coolly concluded, turning his attention to his mobile phone. He hadn’t touched it for the past two hours, which was a record as far as I knew, and was probably swamped with notifications.

Kuroo grumbled something in return that could have been accepted as agreement; he liked to have the final word. Shifting his gaze towards me, he made an effort to reassemble his posture and give me the half-smirk,

“Let’s catch the last train home.”

The proposal would have sounded much more romantic if it had been an invitation that did not imply going to our respective, separate addresses.


	2. 2

_Nomikai -_ _a drinking party phenomenon particular to Japanese culture. Nomikai are a part of the culture of most places of employment. They are most often held in restaurants or izakaya, usually with everyone seated at one large table or occupying a separated section of the venue._ _Employees are usually expected to participate to some extent in various nomikai, as it is considered a social aspect of work, although it is not expressly required (source: Wikipedia)_

**Chapter 2**

The first disaster on Saturday was a freak storm that brought rain, strong winds and temperature to plummet. I misjudged the scope of the change, being too busy to really heed the weather forecast, and ended up dressing too lightly.

The second one was a phone call Kuroo took while waiting on me to finish shopping at the train station konbini store.

As Kenma had predicted, Kuroo had barely made the appointment at 7 PM, but once we were on a train bound for Kenma’s station, I was so relieved I forgot I was freezing. In fact, I was even glad to offer gratuitous glimpses of my bare skin to this tricky man, hoping to catch his gaze lingering at certain places. No luck.

His sunken expression did seem genuine though when he informed me he was needed somewhere else.

“I will walk you over to Kenma’s place, I have enough time for that,” Kuroo said while putting his phone away, already adjusting his schedule in his head with a slight frown. After a busy Saturday behind him, I really believed he was not eager to take on more duties. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

I stood watching him with small plastic bags in my hands, unsure of what to do next. I had no other plans for the evening but I didn’t really feel like spending the whole night waiting on Kuroo again. However, he did seem tired and irritated so I didn’t want to be a part of the problem. Plus, it was cold.

So I nodded, opened my umbrella and started walking.

* * *

When we reached Kenma’s house, Kuroo punched in the key code and opened the door for me, uncharacteristically taciturn. I entered, the noises coming from the inside already announcing that Kenma was, again, gaming. With my shoes and umbrella left at the door, I entered the living room, gave the man sitting on the floor a thin-lipped smile and deposited the bags on the table. At least it was a tad warmer here.

Kenma, with legs of his sweatpants stuffed in his socks and long hair in a messy bun, acknowledged our arrival with a fleeting glance, his fingers a blur of motion. The screen was a battlefield.

Raising my hand in a silent salute, unable to do anything to hide the grimace of helpless displeasure on my face, I mumbled, “Sorry to impose. Again.”  
  


Kuroo came in behind me without taking off his shoes, leaned in from the genkan and announced, “A slight change of plan.”

Kenma’s fingers paused the action on the screen and he turned his head around, his expression revealing he was either unsurprised or that nothing stirred him at all.

“The newspaper sports section chief proposed a nomikai in Shinjuku, so I cannot refuse,” Kuroo shrugged apologetically and I empathized; the function he held didn’t come with fixed working hours. His duties, just like his perks, extended far beyond what stood in his contract, so he didn’t really have a choice in this matter. It was in everyone’s best interest that he obliged. Everyone’s, except his, but that didn’t seem to matter.

Kenma’s attention shifted back to the screen that came alive again.

“Why don’t you just teach her the code, Kuro?” he commented impassively, his fingers busy with the controller, “It will save you the time to walk from the station and back.”

If he felt his friend’s jab, Kuroo didn’t show it, grinning and nodding, “Right, right, come, let me show you.”

Unhappy to have to step outside into the damp coldness again, I nevertheless followed, too surprised by the granted prerogative. I had been basically given a key to the house.

Kenma’s eyes were no longer engaged with the game, however. He was looking at the bags you brought and the contents that were discernible through the thin plastic. The one bag that intrigued him was not from a local kombini store and had the logo of a specialized cake shop, several train stations away.

He hated to admit it to himself, but he realized he had been anticipating your visits, wondering what will you bring each time, a feeling similar to opening of a loot box. It was always some little but carefully picked thing that interrupted Kenma’s routine in the most pleasant way. He learned to expect and even anticipate the small surprises. But more than that, since most of the time Kuroo was not around to share meals and snacks with you, that meant that you were bringing these little morsels for _him._

The realization made Kenma feel funny inside. Except for his best friend, no one ever did anything especially for him.

“I’ll be off then! See you later!” Kuroo shouted before he closed the door behind him and disappeared into the rainy night and back to work.

“I guess we can start with the first movie without him,” I said, resolved to make lemonade out of lemons life had served me, “Kuroo said to put the dinner on his tab.”

Kenma only scrunched his nose, letting me know what he thought about his friend’s tactics. He did pull up the exit menu for the game and saved his progress before switching the console off.

“Look,” to change the atmosphere, I kneeled next to the low table and carefully unwrapped three pieces of a cake, displaying them to the host and pronouncing in a tone of subdued excitement, ”It is a genuine Schwarzwald cake.”

The cake was featured in one of the movies you watched together and Kenma had casually commented on it, but he never expected you to remember, let alone find and bring it to him. He noticed your expectant look but could not, for the life of him, acknowledge that he recognized – and appreciated – the reference.

Instead, he just nodded and murmured a bland, “Thanks.”

He clearly saw glee disappearing from your eyes, but this was the best he could do.

“We can try it after dinner,” he managed to add after a pause, wishing to somehow fix the mood while he was pretending to search for the remote. God, he hated being this awkward.

I took the cake to refrigerator, content to recognize Kenma’s effort. I was getting to know him and his ways, feeling more comfortable in his presence. He would never be a charismatic speaker, but at least there was some progress.

“Do you want me to order?” I smiled, already guessing what Kenma would prefer, and proceeded to dial the restaurant number after he nodded a relieved agreement.

As you were placing the order, concentrated to get everything right, he sneaked a peek at you, wondering for the n-th time why Kuro was not using every free minute to be with you.

Maybe he was keeping you safe at his friend’s place until things were less busy in his schedule, trusting Kenma not to make a move on you? Maybe he wanted to hear his best friend’s opinion before he started anything serious?

Whatever it was, by bringing you into Kenma’s life, Kuroo had definitely drawn his attention to you and Kenma wasn’t used to focusing his attention on females.

It just made him feel funny inside.

* * *

After the meal, the delicious cake, and the movie, while the final credits were rolling on the screen, I checked my phone.

“It’s almost half past 10,” I commented, unsure what exactly I meant by it. Nomikai parties could go on until the wee hours and there was no guarantee that Kuroo would come back here if he decided it was too late. He could do the smart thing and go straight home to sleep off a long day. Texting or calling him was out of the question – I was not his girlfriend, after all.

Kenma noticed you fret but didn’t really know what to say. He knew what _he_ wanted. He wanted you to stay. None of the games he could play compared to interacting with you over some random movie. He loved the cake you brought him, liked to hear your voice. It only showed how empty the house was during the day although that didn’t bother him much until now.

Suddenly, before his resolve evaporated, he found himself playing another movie without waiting to hear your plans. It was the closest thing to being proactive he could muster.

I looked at him, then settled down on the floor again and opened a new can of beer. The alcohol helped keep the cold out of the chilly night and emphasized the conflicting emotions I nurtured. Was I not wasting my time here, waiting on a guy who didn’t seem to have the time for himself, let alone for a relationship? Or maybe he was having the time of his life right now, forgetting all about the sap that is heeding his every whim like an attention-starved puppy. 

After a few sips, as the characters on the screen moved and talked in their story, I quietly asked:

“Do they go to hostess bars?”

I looked over at Kenma, noting his widening eyes and an imperceptible shrug through semi-darkness. It was clear he would pretend not to have heard the question, if he only could. What did I expect, that he would rat out his friend, even if my assumption was true?

I turned back to the screen and drained the can. At one point, I stopped following the plot and dozed off.

* * *

Waking up on the floor of an unfamiliar place among beer cans and snack wraps is not a high point of anyone’s life. My phone said it was just half past 3 in the morning and my body felt stiff from lying on a hard surface. Surprisingly enough, I found a blanket draped over me, so at least I didn’t freeze in my sleep.

Kenma had his headphones on, so the room was utterly silent. Visual effects from the MMORPG campaign he was playing were painting the dark room and his focused face in swirls of colorful patches. He sat like a meditating monk – a stooping monk in baggy sweatpants – the only animated things about him were his eyes and his hands.

On the other side of the room, splayed out over the floor, was Kuroo, breathing evenly in a deep slumber, still wearing his suit. He must have gone back home to change from the casual clothes he wore to the formal attire, because however informal a nomikai was, it was still an extension of work.

He wasn’t covered and the tie around his neck wasn’t even loosened, indicating how tired he must have been when he returned. Despite the uncomfortable position, he slept like a log and I remained still for a while, just studying his face.

There was a faint smell of cigarette smoke, hard liquor and frying oil hanging around him, and the dark skin beneath his closed lids made him look older.

It was hard to imagine these men as sporty boys who played in serious tournaments not so long ago.

Kenma’s peripheral vision must have caught me stirring. He looked over, noticed me watching Kuroo and pulled down the headphones,

“He came back around 1. We didn’t want to wake you up.”

“That’s ok,” I said in a raspy whisper, wondering if I was sporting the same bed head Kuroo did, “Sorry for falling asleep in the middle of the movie.”

Kenma shrugged, “It wasn’t a particularly good one.”

“Did he at least eat something?” I indicated the sleeping figure with my chin.

“Yeah, he heated up some leftovers,” Kenma replied quietly in his matter-of-fact voice. “But fell asleep before he finished them.”

I shook my head in disapproval, knowing that I had no right to say anything - this wasn’t my problem, not even my friend. I didn’t want to criticize Kuroo’s lifestyle in front of Kenma, but he didn’t seem offended.

“People see the flashy packaging, the carefully presented front,” Kenma’s voice continued to explain in an even tone, surprising me with his uncharacteristic eloquence, “but everything has a price.”

He pointedly looked at his friend’s drained face. It was clear he thought Kuroo was not in an enviable position, “Everyone has a side they display only where it is safe to show it.”

I took in his words, wondering if he meant that this was a safe place. I _did_ fall asleep on the living room floor here, something I wouldn’t dream of doing anywhere else except my own home. Was that the reason Kenma didn’t go out? Because keeping up the front was too exhausting?

“Why doesn’t he… just stop?” I asked, smiling with a tint of bitterness on my account, wondering if Kenma was again trying to tell me something in his indirect way, ”Find a less demanding job, a girl who would make him get his life together?”

“He has worked too hard to get to where he is,” Kenma concluded and I almost pointed out that he is in fact lying dressed on the floor of someone else’s place, out cold, but I understood what Kenma was saying. It was Kuroo’s choice to make.

I sat up, rolling down the blanket and straightening my hair, glad that Kuroo didn’t see this unflattering version of me, “Can I stay until the first trains are running again?”

Kenma nodded, trying to hide joy behind his porcelain front. He was worried you would take a cab when you woke up, but this way he would get to spend more time with you. And when you showed interest in the game he was playing, he had to focus in order to contain his excitement. Kuro would see through him in a second, but luckily he was asleep and you were too concentrated on the screen to notice him sneak an occasional glance at you.

For some reason, Kenma discovered he loved displaying his talent for you, guiding you into the virtual world he called his. Suddenly, the stats didn’t matter, your approval did. He wanted to show it all, see your reaction.

Hours flew by and neither of you noticed when dawn light came creeping in.

Neither, except for Kuroo whose narrow eyes occasionally peeked at the duo too immersed into the game, and each other, to see a smile on his lips.

He couldn’t recall ever seeing his friend so animated about anything, except maybe the last volleyball tournament they played together. Warmed by memories, Kuroo decided not to point out what time it was and to catch some more sleep instead.

* * *

After Kuroo promised to definitely treat you all with a dinner next Wednesday, and after you and Kuroo left to catch an early train, Kenma found himself aimlessly browsing through his vast game collection without registering the titles at all. He cleaned up and checked his notifications, and by the time he would usually already be sleeping, he was pacing through rooms with a vague sense of restlessness.

Why did he feel the urge to take action when he saw you huddle in your sleep? The night had grown chilly and the old house was full of holes, so sleeping on the floor was not the best idea, but why would he care? After all, you and Kuroo have been continually inviting yourselves to his place.

More than that, he was bothered by the nagging realization that you might be under the impression that Kuroo sacrificed his comfort and gave you his blanket. Then, in turn, was upset by such a childish thing bothering him.

He was not being rational. He was not being himself.

Beside all that, he was bothered because of what he did after he threw the blanket over you as carelessly as he could. He did not continue with the movie and neither did he pick up his controller. He did nothing, catching himself watching you sleep. You were not a particularly inviting sight, disheveled and with your mouth half open, invading his space, and yet…

You intrigued him. And once something sparked his interest, Kenma’s mind was like a bloodhound, tenacious and obsessive.

That’s how he knew that ignoring the funny feelings inside his chest and unsorted thoughts in his head wouldn’t work, just as he knew that the throbbing in his pants wasn’t a short-term problem that could be solved with a quick jerk-off.

But he needed to sleep, so he blocked out the sunlight with thick curtains, rolled onto his bed and closed his eyes, evoking your voice, your laughter, your face. The reaction of his body needed no complex interpretation, the erection in his hand was a solid proof of his interest in you, his carnal interest, and although this scared him a little, at this moment Kenma couldn’t process it, sinking deeper and deeper into pleasure.

He didn’t do this often, his libido was like his sense of hunger – subdued and focused on the necessity, not the pleasure – but this time the scope of his arousal, the excitement, the lust astounded him. Finally able to shut down the analyst in him, Kenma allowed his hand to quickly take him overboard, the strong orgasm taking him to another place for a few seconds.

Catching his breath, too tired to clean himself, he remained lying for a while and enjoying the post-climactic chill, imagining you were here with him despite the vague guilt of getting emotionally involved with Kuroo’s possible love interest.

He wasn’t being himself.

He liked it.


	3. 3

Chapter 3

Wednesday seemed like a month away.

Kenma was annoyingly aware that his anticipation was lurking under a thin layer of concentration for whatever he happened to be doing, but it was there alright, bubbling just below the surface. Will you bring another trinket for him? What were you doing right now? With whom? He caught himself thinking about something you said or did almost every free minute, and time is what Kenma had in abundance.

He indulged in familiar nostalgia, seeking emotional comfort by dusting off games he had been playing in childhood and getting angry at repeated mistakes he made, unable to focus on the action. What he did focus on were a few insignificant messages you exchanged in the past days, memory of your eyes that he couldn’t really look directly at or the quiet presence of your body in the room, beside him.

Just because he was spending a lot of time offline, disappointing followers of his streaming channels, that didn’t mean Kenma was anchored in reality either. Getting off, however, wasn't enough to keep the longing for you out of his system.

The more he thought about you, the more he thought about the things he wanted to do with you. Or to you. It wasn't something Kenma usually contemplated; his fantasies were mostly relived on the screen in interaction via his game controller. He didn't DO physical sexuality, it was just too much trouble. He didn't feel like he was missing out either, until now.

That line of thought brought its own taste of apprehension.

While weaving smutty daydreams in his head, his hands busying themselves with a different kind of joystick for a change, the nagging concern of just how painfully inexperienced he was started glaring Kenma in the face.

What could he possibly do for you, even if you let him?

He enviously recalled the ease with which Kuroo handled interaction with women, all those mornings in college when he would show up with a self-satisfied grin and a freshly fucked look. In a way, for years Kuroo had been levelling up in a game Kenma wasn’t even playing. The realisation did nothing to quench Kenma’s physical frustration or to stop him fantasizing about you, it only added a deeper sense of anxiety in the mix.

* * *

Kuroo was the first to let himself in on Wednesday evening, leaving his shoes by the door and stepping in the living room where Kenma was gaming. Actually, he had been roaming the open world of the MMORPG game for hours now, taking what would other people call ‘a long walk to clear their heads’, but Kuroo didn’t seem to notice a difference.

What he did notice was another controller on the table and the implication made him grin. He didn’t say a thing, though.

When Kenma’s eyes darted towards the door despite themselves and stayed there, looking for the one who wasn’t appearing, Kuroo’s smile widened. He could read his friend like an open book.

“I rushed ahead because I bought some ice cream for us,” Kuroo moved towards refrigerator in the kitchen, “she is just behind me. Man, it’s hot outside!” His rooster head was hidden behind the open door, his voice muffled, his grin hidden, “Do you want something cold from the fridge?”

Kenma only resumed his virtual adventure without a comment, the wings of the butterflies in his stomach hitting his insides like a million tiny razors. He hated not being able to control his emotions, terrified they will show. He concentrated on his breathing, feeling his palms sweat.

A doorbell rang and Kenma’s heart jumped.

“Oi, unlock the door,” Kuroo shouted from the kitchen in his unrushed voice, “you know the code!”

After some rustling, the door finally opened. “Yeah, you’re right,” I smiled to mask my embarrassment as I stepped in, putting the konbini bags on the floor to take off my shoes. It was strange to let yourself in someone else’s space.

“O jama shimasu,” I recited in a singsong tone, unsurprised to find the host installed at the low table, a gaming controller in his hands, his hair tied in a messy ponytail. “I know it’s not an apple pie, but I found some cold Kirin Strong Apple ciders in the store. Does anyone want any before I put them in the fridge?”

“I’ll have one,” Kenma’s lips moved and his hand extended towards you, rising Kuroo’s eyebrows. He knew his friend didn’t drink. He also knew his friend’s favoured snack was apple pie.

Smiling, I handed Kenma a cooled can, leaving one for myself and casting Kuroo a questioning look.

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded and came over, sitting down on the floor, “I’ll have one too.” His tailored suit looked so out of place next to Kenma’s worn out shorts, it almost seemed like a cosplay.

Already knowing the drill, I ordered food and joined the men by the table, opening my can. It was just for a fleeting moment, but I noticed Kenma’s glance and knew he caught the apple pie reference. The trinkets I brought became a private joke between us, akin to Easter eggs in computer games. Sometimes the inspiration for what to bring next came easily, but sometimes I had to think long and hard.

Like this time. But it was not only the meaningful trinket that had occupied my mind, it was the realisation how much I started looking forward to coming to Kenma’s place. I guess a part of me came to terms with my non-prioritised place in Kuroo’s schedule, but it was more than that. With Kuroo, there was always this underlying stress of trying to make things happen, to live up to his expectations, to be noticed. On the other hand, chilling in this place, although it wasn’t improving my love life, didn’t leave me really lacking either. Far from noisy bars and guys who only wanted the one thing, maybe picking exotic movies or watching Kenma play was just the thing I needed in this scorching summer. Maybe.

Kenma tasted the drink and found its bubbles suited his jittery state of mind perfectly, just as its coldness did wonders for his racing heart. After awhile, the alcohol seemed to take the edge off his anxiety, mellowing him out and allowing him to enjoy the moment. The less his head worked, the more his body relaxed.

He watched you and Kuroo chat, but more than on your words, he concentrated on your bodies; the male and the female. If he weren’t here, would your bodies spring into action, start doing whatever males and females did together behind closed doors? How well did you play that game? You didn’t seem inexperienced, at least not as inexperienced as Kenma was.

He took another gulp, finishing his can.

“Another round?” you were attentive, smiling at him and he couldn’t do anything but nod, ignoring Kuroo’s prying eyes and all the things he was saying with that taunting look of his. So what if he got a little drunk once in a while? He wasn’t feeling himself anyway.

When you returned with the new round for everybody, Kenma’s hands were again busy with the controller, his focus seemingly on the colourful screen. Not much was happening there, though.

“Would you like to join the campaign? While we wait for dinner?” he said to no one in particular, but since Kuroo just continued to unhurriedly sip his cold drink, I assumed the invitation was addressed to me. Only then did I register another controller on the table top.

“Umm, I am not really good at games…” I muttered, unsure how to react. I wasn’t used to Kenma proposing anything and I didn’t mind to have a little fun, but I barely knew how to hold a controller. Compared to him, I was a hopeless noob.

“Come on, watching you two playing until the food arrives will take my mind off how hungry I am,” Kuroo pushed and I really had no reason to refuse the offer.

“O-ok,” I said and carefully picked up the controller, weighing the strange object in my hands.

“We’ll start by creating your character,” Kenma’s voice obtained the familiar matter-of-fact quality as his brain went through sequence of steps for registration of a new player. This was his territory, the area he felt confident about and it showed.

Kuroo observed the uncharacteristically patient side of Kenma from the side-lines, wondering if it was solely the alcohol created bliss in his organism that made his friend so amenable. 

Kenma gave clear and terse instructions and I did my best to follow, not reacting to a buzz I heard at one point, assuming it was the delivery man. I knew he would leave the food by the door to be collected whenever it was convenient for us – he had learned Kenma’s drill. Amid my first unsteady virtual steps, I was reluctant to stop what I was doing just to attend to something in the real world, surprising myself how quickly I adopted my teacher’s manners.

But it was not the door, it was Kuroo’s phone. He took the call, switching to his formal tone and lingo, and groaned after he hung up. Then he paused a moment, staring pensively at thick dusk outside, before he got up.

“I have to go,” he didn’t even offer an explanation this time and I didn’t feel like pointing out that he hadn’t even eaten yet. It wasn’t my place to do so or to comment when the expected follow-up came, “I’ll come back after I take care of this thing.”

Kenma mumbled something in acknowledgment and I waved a goodbye, watching Kuroo out. He passed by the delivery man on the street outside, but not even the prospect of a quick warm dinner could make him linger. I didn’t envy his tailor-suited job at all.

Engulfed in the game, we didn’t eat properly. Instead, the food was haphazardly strewn across the table and we took turns nipping bits with our fingers, our focus on the screen.

Kenma was only superficially following your clumsy attempts at making your newly created character listen to your commands. His eyes darted ever so often to your face while you were too consumed with mastering the new world to notice his attention. He was keenly aware you two were alone, again, that you were both relaxed and that things were, for once, taking their natural course. There were no awkward silences when Kuroo left, you ate from the same plate and randomly chatted with ease.

Kenma wanted to preserve the comfortable warmth in his stomach, so he took another sip of his drink to stoke up the pleasant lull. There was a faint whiff of your perfume in the warm air that made Kenma close his eyes to fully appreciate it. Did you put it on for him? He wanted to believe so. You must have been thinking of him when you were buying these drinks. Did you think of him as of a friend’s friend or as a…?

“Am I doing this right?” your unsure voice brought him back to see your character make futile attempts to climb out of a canyon it fell into, “I don’t know how I got here. There is no way out. Am I going to die now?”

There was an apologetic plea in your tone which struck a chord in him and at that point he would do anything to make things in your common virtual world right again.

“No, you just have to follow that cleft on the right and find an exit,” he pointed out an unobtrusive passage you had been missing, “But in order to get out, you will have to beat a dragon and at your level…” Kenma shook his head, his mind focusing on the challenge and on the way to overcome it. He took his controller again.

“Wait here, I will reach you and create a way out,” on Kodzuken’s side of the split screen, Kenma’s knight – passively waiting until now – sprung into action with a grace of a seasoned player conducting his movements. He rushed towards your location, but there was a lot of ground he had to cover before he reached the canyon you were stuck in.

I stretched my fingers which were cramping, unaccustomed to handling the controller. Watching Kenma elegantly dispatch the opponents he encountered while swiftly and purposefully moving forward only made you feel even clumsier than before. Why was he still tolerating your sorry excuse for gaming, now that the food had not only arrived but had already turned cold? He didn’t seem to mind watching your equivalent of learning to crawl, and you didn’t feel an ounce of ridicule coming from him, but surely he had better things to do.

Kenma however didn’t seem to be put out by this save-the-noob expedition at all, his character darting across the screen with a clear objective while sporting a massive amount of charms and items. He - Kodzuken - must have played for hours, days, weeks to reach this level. The lithe man in worn out shirt next to me had nothing in common with the shiny overpowered knight on the screen, maybe they only shared the same level of devotion towards new challenges. Was this the way he saw himself?

I wondered where did Kenma end and Kodzuken begin.

“Hey, I bet that top knot would look good on you too,” I pointed at Kenma’s character just to see his reaction, wondering if he would betray at least a fragment of his inner world. Expectedly, he only gave a non-committal shrug, his eyes locked on the action, awaking a strange stubbornness in me.

“Do you ever wear your hair up like that?” I pursued the issue, half turning to him, bringing the conversation from the virtual into the real world.

“Not really,” there was a change in his tone that clearly revealed he disliked being the object of attention, but I wouldn’t let it go. Maybe the drink was stronger than I thought, erasing my inhibitions and good manners.

“I think it might look good. Your hair _is_ long enough…” I concluded after a long, scrutinising look at his untidy ponytail and halfway bleached hair, “Do you have a hairbrush?”

Kenma flinched but didn’t shoot down the suggestion, indicating with his chin while his fingers skilfully navigated Kodzuken’s adventures, “In the bathroom.”

I got up, registering the pleasant alcohol buzz and wondering if it was giving me inspiration for doing things on a whim that would make a person like Kenma feel utterly uncomfortable. Maybe he was not just an introvert, maybe he disliked all types of interaction? It took him ages just to start acting casual in my company. Maybe he was too freaked out to say no.

While one part of me knew he was a grown-up who could communicate his will, the other part just didn’t care if this was the last time I came here. So what if he changed the entry code and didn’t invite me over anymore? My pipe dream of hitting it off with Kuroo now seemed like a fairy-tale fantasy and learning to play video games, however fun, did not seem like a road to anywhere meaningful.

I found the brush and headed back into the room where the big TV screen was the sole source of light.

When you returned to the room and kneeled behind him, it took all of Kenma’s concentration to stay still, but when your hands gently undid his ponytail he almost dropped the controller. Kodzuken stumbled and took a few easily avoidable hits. Kenma didn’t care, he barely registered. Pure muscle memory kept moving Kodzuken forward, while Kenma soaked in the soft and careful strokes of brush down his long hair that fell freely across his back. He consciously fought not to close his eyes because he knew that would be the end of this dream. Instead, he played on, moving towards you in the virtual world, getting closer to where you were by the second.

When you set the brush aside and started collecting his hair with your fingers, waves of new kind of pleasure and pure lust ebbed inside him, and he had to adjust to hide his obvious arousal. From time to time your hands would softly touch the exposed parts of the back of his neck, and Kenma could have sworn that was the best feeling in the world. At one moment he caught himself breathing deeply and made himself stop, already scared you would feel the crazy pounding of his heart. This was delicious, damn good… he felt he was melting under your hands, completely disregarding stings of occasional tugs when a lock of his hair would get caught in your ministrations. As far as he was concerned, this was as close to heaven as he has ever been.

“There,” you moved back to observe your work, “Looks even kinda artistic.”

“Really?” Kenma commented just to say something, dispelling your worries about him resenting your attention. By that time, Kodzuken was already deep inside the canyon, with you. “I will give you parts of my armour and spells to power up your character,” he explained as colourful animations accompanied the described actions, “Now, just follow me and stay behind.”

Kodzuken led the way, patiently waiting whenever your character got caught up. Kenma couldn’t care less if you roamed around the canyon all night long. He experienced something akin to post orgasmic chill and learned that adding alcohol to the mix only made his fantasies more palpable. He didn’t want Kuroo to return, ever.

Eventually, you did encounter a dragon and you did as you were told, staying behind while Kodzuken did his part and cleared the way out. Finally back on the meadow, you roamed around, meeting other characters while you tested the newly acquired equipment. There was so much to learn, so many things to master. In a way, this entire game was a canyon one could roam and explore, but never get out of.

While he waited on you, Kenma occasionally exchanged brief messages with other players. By the way they approached him, Kodzuken seemed to be a well-known hero on this map. Their lingo was like a foreign language to you. Many of them asked Kodzuken why wasn’t he streaming, but at the moment you were too busy with grasping the extent of goodies he gave you to actually ask him what that meant.

I couldn’t help noticing many voluptuously sculpted female avatars, adorned with badges of accomplishments and revealing outfits. Compared to their full breasts and shapely legs, my short cat-faced warrior no longer looked cute at all.

“Hey, maybe if I change my character to one of those vixens, I could at least draw some attention here as I cannot seem to pull it off in the real life, hahaha,” there was a painfully frank undertone in your humor and Kenma wanted to say you didn’t need to don a skimpy armor and sport melon size breasts to get _his_ attention, but of course he couldn’t say that.

“Are you one of those guys who prefer virtual girls?” out of the blue, a cold shower.

Kenma turned his head to you, his eyes wide. He didn’t have to ask, clear disbelief was etched on his face.

“I mean, there is nothing wrong with that,” I tried to fix the damage, wondering if he felt insulted, but he _did_ fit the profile. I indicated the screen with my controller, “I mean, look at them! You know what I mean, they are all, you know, sexy…”

Remembering Kuroo’s mastery of getting out of sticky situations with just a grin, Kenma forced himself to stretch his lips in a smile that could be interpreted either way, while bitter bile filled his chest. Where did this come from? He was unable to stop himself from feeling inexplicably hurt. Is that how you saw him, as a hopeless geek?

It was a cold awakening, a reminder that, in the end, _he_ was not why you were here. You were here for one reason only and he could walk through this door any second now.

Just then, Kenma’s phone beeped with a new message. It was Kuroo.

_(How are things going? ;) )_

_(?)_

_(What are you waiting for?)_

While you walked your character around oblivious of the exchange, Kenma typed back with shaky fingers, a revelation budding inside him.

_(?!)_

Kuroo promptly wrote back.

_(When are you going to make a move on her?)_

Kenma’s first reaction was to get up, retreat to his gaming room and lock the door. Maybe to change the entry code so Kuroo could not get in for a while, until Kenma’s anger subsided.

But you were still there, meticulously going through customization menus in process of turning your character into a standard sex-doll, completely oblivious of Kenma’s eyes on you. Your lips smiled every now and then when you found a particularly interesting feature, your face a picture of concentration. He wanted to touch you, everything in him pulled towards you, sitting just within arm’s reach.

Too many mixed emotions paralyzed him, and he put his phone quietly away, taking up the controller instead, just like he did countless times before. He couldn’t process reality right now.

“Are there any unopened cans?” he asked in a dull voice, a stark contrast to Kodzuken’s extravagant spark-showered swordplay on the screen.

“Sure,” you readily opened another drink for him.

* * *

Kuroo took a cab back, not trusting himself to tackle the trains in his state. He was smashed. I don’t remember every seeing him this drunk, as he was usually careful how much he took in with each sip. Maybe it was his empty stomach, maybe it was a really wild party or maybe some personal shipwreck he wanted to drown, but when he finally dragged himself to Kenma’s doorstep, he fumbled with the code until we opened the door and let him inside.

We were still gaming when we heard him arrive, but dropped everything when we saw what the cat dragged in.

Kuroo managed to stumble in and take his shoes off after a couple attempts, before assuming his usual position on the living room floor, next to the table. While lying down, he undid his tie and painfully squinted, because even though he was not moving, the room around him was still maddeningly spinning.

I looked at Kenma at a loss as to what to do, but by his unperturbed reaction, it didn’t seem this was Kuroo’s first time showing up in this state.

“I’ll get him a wet towel,” he said evenly and disappeared into the bathroom.

I kneeled beside the lying man, pressing my palm on his forehead. The skin there was clammy and wet. Maybe if he ate something…

Kuroo’s palm clasped mine as he murmured something softly then carefully turned, with his eyes still closed, and made himself comfortable on his side, using my thighs as an improvised pillow. His hand was still holding mine as I watched him rest, unsure whether we has even aware where we were and who I was. The smell of strong alcohol emanating from him was suffocating. His hair, even messier than usual, tickled but the warmth of his body and weight of his head resting on my lap were not unpleasant. His fingers then blindly hovered until they connected with the bare skin of my knee, making their way slowly but surely up towards the hem of my shorts.

Was this really happening? Now, after everything?

I held my breath, trying to fight the pleasant sensation his fingertips evoked in me. He might be blind drunk, but he knew what he was doing. Skilfully, he conquered patches of my skin, making himself a path to…

I gently took Kuroo’s hand and moved it away from my body. Then I carefully extracted myself from under his head, letting it rest on the floor. He didn’t even open his eyes in the process. I lingered for a moment by his side, feeling that something had just ended, feeling both disappointment and relief swelling up inside me. It was not me he wanted, it was maybe not even some other woman with a name. I couldn’t help feeling sorry for Kuroo, alone among all those people he connected, without the luxury of a private life.

I got to my feet and headed for genkan, almost colliding with Kenma. In the darkness and through the blur of forming tears I fought not to spill, I didn’t even notice him.

Kenma observed the whole thing, waiting to see how the things would play out. He saw it clearly on your face, in your body language – you weren’t coming back, you had no reason to ever set foot in his house again and, without Kuroo in the picture, he really had no reason to contact you. It was over, your joint campaign ended before it began.

A wave of panic swept over him and he dropped the towel he had prepared for Kuroo.

“I better go,” he heard you whisper with your back already turned to him, and all he knew next was his hand reaching out for your shoulder and turning you around. Your downcast eyes and half opened mouth, the lips he felt so irresistibly drawn to… the sudden rush of blood made Kenma’s world spin. He couldn’t just let you go without a word.

“Stay,” Kenma’s voice was even softer but there, in darkness between you two, stood out like a beacon. It worked; you halted, unsure whether you heard him and why were there so many implications in a single word, and it was a window of opportunity he recognized, the one he could not afford to miss.

He took a small step towards you and let his body act without his mind for a change, pressing his lips softly on the corner of your mouth. He never did anything like this before and had no idea if it was right, but it was all he _could_ do.

Kenma saw your body tense, your eyes widen in semi-dark. Then you turned, slipped into your shoes and disappeared through the door without a sound.

“Well, shit,” a slurring voice came from the living room. Kenma, still shell-shocked, turned to see Kuroo’s squinting face, now propped up on his elbow.

“You were watching?” Kenma heard himself mouth the obvious in disbelief.

“Don't worry, there wasn’t much to see,” Kuroo waved his hand dismissively.

“Did you plan this from the beginning?” Kenma’s voice was quiet and deceptively still as he stared at his best friend. Inside his chest, his heart was going through a shipwreck. The pain was worse than taking a spike shot in the face. There was a dark gleam to his eyes, he was embarrassed and hurt. Feeling angry at Kuroo was actually a relief, a hot iron bar he could squeeze until it blurred out all other sensations.

Instead of giving a straightforward answer, Kuroo laid on his back, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Never hearing a similar coldness in his friend’s voice, he wondered if this had been a good idea after all.

“She is a nice girl, you saw her pushing me away. She passed the test, ” Kuroo mumbled, breathing slowly to fight waves of nausea, “When I met her, I thought she could be the right one for you. I had only the best intentions. Hey, I squeezed this project into my busy schedule for your sake. Nice hairstyle, by the way, the bun looks good on you,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “Is that towel you mentioned somewhere around?”

“You cannot always manipulate people however suits you,” the anger in Kenma’s voice was the dangerous, deep, seething kind. Scary, but Kuroo refused to acknowledge it.

“I just connected you,” he stressed and, when noticing his friend didn’t react, added bluntly, “Well, do you feel manipulated?”

Hearing no further answer Kuroo made an effort to look at his friend's scrunched-up face again, “Well do you _not_ like her?”

“Give me her address,” Kenma retorted in a dry tone.


	4. 4

Chapter 4

It took me forever to fall asleep that night. The faint sensation of Kenma’s warm lips and their soft touch still lingered on my skin. Was there any room for misinterpretation of his intentions? No, he definitely wanted me to stay and stay for a reason.

Did I give him the wrong impression?

By constantly coming to hang out, chatting him up, eating together, fixing up his hair for god’s sake… of course he could have gotten the impression I was there for the taking. What man wouldn’t?

Recalling the shy, introverted man who had a hard time maintaining eye contact – the version of Kenma I had initially met – and then the one who asserted his wish; how did I miss the transformation?

The fleeting sensation of his hesitant, featherlike lips tickled my memory, picture fragments spun like a merry-go-round in my head. The summer night, flickering light coming from the TV screen, the darkness that had engulfed us both in the narrow space and the unexpected - but not unpleasant - touch.

The clumsiness behind Kenma’s actions, so different from his gaming style, was what made the experience so much more precious.

And perplexing. He definitely didn’t have a habit of picking up girls.

I turned in bed, guilty with realization I might have inadvertently led on and hurt a person who tried really hard to open up to me, while I was selfishly pursuing my own agenda. Was I using Kenma?

Yes - there was no way around it. I sat up, reaching for my phone, deliberating whether to apologize for the misunderstanding. I knew he would still be up gaming, but no matter how bad I felt, I just couldn’t do it.

Lying back with my phone in my hands, I bit my lip in frustration. Did I not want to keep him in my life? Just because Kuroo had no romantic interest in me, did that mean Kenma’s hospitality, the time we’ve spent together, the private jokes, the shared meals meant nothing?

They obviously meant something to Kenma, otherwise he wouldn’t have tried to…

My eyes widened in realization he must have seen Kuroo’s drunk pawing and my reaction. I squeezed the phone in my hand out of sheer embarrassment. Was that _why_ he made his move?

With my focus shifting from Kuroo, things rearranged themselves like in optical illusion, granting me a whole different perspective. While I was busy chasing the elusive businessman, I was getting to know the taciturn gamer who, in truth, made me feel more relaxed and positive about myself. Who actually wanted to do things with me and who shared his space and time. Whom I took for granted.

I was being a selfish idiot and now it was too late to fix things.

Deciding that tomorrow I would send Kenma a short message of apology, just to end this episode of my life with a less bitter aftertaste, I eventually fell asleep.

* * *

Tomorrow, I kept postponing the apology, busying myself with other tasks, all too reluctant to admit my own contribution to the mess. Hours passed, the afternoon turned into an evening. While I lounged in my apartment with a cold tea after coming home from work, a message from no one else but Kenma lit up my phone.

_(There is something outside your door that I want you to have as an apology. I was out of line.)_

I hesitated, then tiptoed to my door and carefully peered into the peephole. There was no one there, just a box wrapped in gift paper right in front of my front door. I wasn’t sure about accepting it, but knowing it would get stolen if left outside, after a moment’s deliberation I took the strange thing inside.

Sitting on the floor, watching the neatly wrapped object that held no cards, notes or explanations, I knew I should have been creeped out but somehow wasn’t. It was obvious he got my address from Kuroo but, not only did I not feel physically intimidated by Kenma, he didn’t even try to meet me in person, let alone come inside my home.

My hand carefully touched the big box, slid a finger across its surface until it caught the edge of the wrapping paper and pulled, revealing another layer of packaging beneath. In disbelief, I tore the whole thing free and what remained was a box containing a brand new gaming console with a controller, the big letters on it announcing this was the latest model.

Putting the thing carefully away, I immediately texted Kenma

_(This is too much, I cannot accept it)_

When no response came, I threw out the wrapping paper and deliberated whether I should send the gift back or return it to Kenma’s place myself, but neither seemed like a good solution.

Two days later, Kuroo called. While I slid the icon to green, I wondered whether Kenma told him anything about what happened.

“Hey,” I answered, having no idea what to say if he proposed another ‘movie night’.

“Hey, how is it going?” Kuroo’s voice, though casual, held an undertone of caution. On the other side, his ears were pricked for my reaction.

“Hmm, same old…,” I said neutrally, wondering whether it would be out of line to ask about Kenma or his gift. I had no idea how much Kuroo knew about the whole ordeal.

“So, did u log in yet?” Kuroo’s voice became impatient. He was in a crowded place and I got a distinct feeling he stood outside of a noisy room just to make this call.

“What?” I didn’t expect that. Kuroo repeated more slowly,

“Did u log in? He is waiting for u online, you know. Has been for days.”

So he knew about the gift.

“I cannot possibly take his console,” I became flustered,” This is worth more than I earn in…”

“It’s peanuts for him,” Kuroo interjected and I could easily imagine him checking his watch. I bet he had other places to be. “Look, I might have gone ahead and done a pretty inconsiderate thing. The road to hell is paved with good intentions and all that… So I want to help set things right. Or at least, do some damage control.”

I hesitated with a reply, not really following his explanation, prompting a frustrated sigh from the other side. I eyed the package that was still neatly pushed into the corner of the room like an intruder I tolerated but didn’t dare to touch. I nervously licked my lips.

“This might not be a big thing for him then, but it is for me,” I said in a quiet voice. It was awkward to have this conversation with Kuroo out of all people.

“And it should be,” he was quick to retort. Kuroo sounded a bit put out, as his barrage of words continued pelting through the phone, “He didn’t order the thing; he _actually_ went to the store - a physical store - because he could not wait for a delivery. And then he changed several trains, came to an unfamiliar part of town and sought out your address. Even I have a hard time wrapping my head around it.”

He paused, then said slowly and clearly, “It is a big thing for him too, believe me. You have no idea.”

“Why didn’t he call then,” I muttered, feeling strange warmth spread in my stomach as Kuroo’s words slowly registered.

“Why don't you ask him yourself?” he smiled on the other side. “Just… be patient, ok?”

* * *

Sitting on the living room floor all by himself, Kenma picked at the cold food in front of him. He had no appetite and even the meager bites he forced down tasted like nothing. It was the same menu you used to order, but instead of evoking pleasant memories, it only carved the feeling of loneliness deeper inside him.

Switching to the living room instead of his gaming room to play had been a mistake, too. The big space only made him feel small and he was still recuperating from the train ride from the other day. He forgot how much he hated noisy crowds and humid summer in the city with sweaty clothes sticking to him.

Kodzuken idled on the screen, not even bothering to reply to numerous inquiries about his inactivity and absence from the real action. _You_ were not here; not in the house, not in the virtual world you two shared for a short while. Your world was out there, among the crowds and the sweltering concrete, and Kenma didn’t feel confident about venturing back. But he was no longer finding any peace here, either.

He didn’t want to get used to you or learn how rewarding it was to touch you, but he had dropped his guard, miscalculated his odds and now he was paying the price.

This is why he disliked the real life. In a game, if he erred and lost a life, he would get a chance to pass a level again, seek a different approach or change his strategy. In games, there was always a way. Real life was unforgiving, it didn’t give second chances.

Real life sucked.

But he could see your face and your body or touch you only in the real life. The kiss he stole happened in the real life too, and the genuine, however brief sensation of your skin still haunted him.

The grave feeling that things would never be the same was sinking in, bringing a deep sense of regret in its wake. Why can’t he go back to the way he was before, self-sufficient and content, when being alone didn’t mean being lonely?

Kodzuken patiently awaited his orders, as befitted a loyal knight, but for the first time in his life Kenma didn’t feel like gaming. The only reason he lingered online was the remote possibility that maybe, just maybe, you would accept his gift and log in.

Of course he knew the chances were slim. You were a creature of the outside world, after all, a woman interested in living her life instead of playing virtual adventures with a recluse. You were so much braver than him, taking real chances without the option of restarting a level. No wonder you would be attracted to someone like Kuroo who not only deftly negotiated the intricate real-life games, but thrived by playing them.

When your name appeared on the screen, Kenma thought he had wished it into existence. He quickly established a channel and sent you a short:

_Hi_

_Hello_

the five letters that appeared in response made him crack a smile. He didn’t have the guts to call you or knock on your door, but at least here he could try to connect again.

_Thank you for the gift_

_Are you sure it’s ok for me to take it?_

Your avatar was changed back to the short, catlike fighter you initially chose and he liked seeing you dropped the sex-goddess pretences. This was more like you, anyway.

_Don’t mention it_

_Do u feel like hunting 4 hidden treasure today?_

Kenma typed fast while he still had your attention, before you could change your mind and log off. Or tell him something he didn’t want to hear. 

_OK_

Your reply promptly made him sit up, check the map and prepare for the task at hand by analyzing the stats of your character.

_I advise upgrading ur armor 1st_

_I can show u the fastest course_

_Ok, lead the way_

Kenma felt his heart pound in his throat. Before he lost his nerve, he typed the sentence that had been on tips of his fingers and in his mouth for days.

_I am sorry about what happened_

He didn’t want to ignore the other night, didn’t want to have a taboo between you two. This was important to him, to be open for a change. In that regard, he decided to go all the way in and disclose the complete truth.

_Actually, I am not sorry that it happened_

_I am sorry it didn’t work out_

_I hope that we can still play this campaign as allies_

It was so much easier to convey what he meant here, so much easier than saying: “I hope we can stay friends” over the phone or to your face. The virtual reality was a cushion protecting him from the complicated, unforgiving world and your character could never hurt Kodzuken.

Kenma didn’t breathe during the long moments of waiting for your reply.

_Yes, I’d love that_

He let out a deep breath and, when after a second you added a

_:)_

Kenma almost made Kodzuken jump into the air with relief. But, there was no time to waste; you had an adventure ahead of you. Kodzuken turned on his heel and ran down the hill, making a beeline towards a cluster of lower rank enemies who will make a good XP harvest for you.

It took him a moment to realize you weren’t following. Feeling a cold worry creep in his gut, he sprinted back, only to find you turning in circles.

_Sorry_

You typed

_Still learning controls_

_Please be patient with me_

“You got it,” Kenma whispered with a smile to an empty room. He no longer perceived it as a lonely space; he was out there with you, anyway.

_No prob_

_Take ur time_

He sat back and waited patiently, the sweet memory of the brief kiss still searing his lips. Did he tell you the complete truth?

No.

Instead of replaying that fleeting moment in his head, he wanted to repeat it. And then do it some more.

Kodzuken and Kenma both shared a common trait; they never backed down before a challenge and never gave up.

The game was still on, he still had a chance.

_I am waiting 4 u_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI, dear readers, is there anybody out there? I hope you are enjoying the story.
> 
> I am planning on moving it to M rating from the next ch on...


	5. 5 (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kotatsu - low, wooden table frame covered by a futon, or heavy blanket, upon which a table top sits. Underneath is a heat source, formerly a charcoal brazier but now electric, often built into the table itself (Wikipedia). It keeps legs and body parts under the blanket nice and warm

**Chapter 5**

Pretty soon, meetings online in your avatar forms became a relaxing routine. Kenma would patiently wait for you to finish with your daily assignments, considering the late hours spent campaigning together a treat that had to be enjoyed slowly, without outside disturbances or distractions.

Before he learned better, Kuroo came around a few times during those sessions to see his friend and was little taken aback by Kenma’s complete indifference about his company. However, if that meant he didn’t hold any grudges for Kuroo’s crude attempt to introduce him to a prospective partner, Kuroo didn’t really mind. He liked seeing Kenma animated, not only by a romance just within his grasp, but by a new challenge. The combination of the two seemed to be an irresistible lure for the gamer. Kuroo has never seen Kenma interested in a woman, so he could only hope that you would not end up breaking his vulnerable, late bloomer’s heart.

While he nibbled on snacks and watched his friend transfixed by the MMORPG scenery and your voice in his earphones, Kuroo faintly smiled. He could not shelter Kenma from the possibility of getting hurt, but love games were played with high stakes if they were worth their name. For Kenma’s sake, Kuroo hoped his friend’s tenaciousness and skill would do the trick in the long run.

Other players continually bugged Kodzuken about the mysterious new player he stubbornly shadowed, but Kenma ignored theories that started spouting and spreading through gaming forums and refrained from commenting, worried only that malevolent gossip could reach you and tip the delicate balance you two had.

There was no scoreboard on which he could check his odds, but he had a gut feeling he was on the right track every time he would log out after a gaming session with you. As your conversations moved more from learning the controls and rules of the virtual world to small things about your past and everyday lives, the harder it was for Kenma to keep returning to the empty real life room after logging off.

You soon replaced tedious typing with audio connection, and even now Kenma would still get pleasant shivers from your voice in his ears. He had an impression you were right there, just behind his back, whispering, laughing, telling him about your day and squealing with joy when you’d win a particularly valuable item. It turned him on, tickled the pit of his stomach in the most peculiar way. Yeah, there were times when he had to put himself on mute and take care of the built-up physical frustration and on those occasions all he needed to do was close his eyes, put his hand down his sweatpants and let your voice take him there.

He didn’t care about Kuroo’s knowing smirks when the rooster head would let himself in on early afternoons and catch his childhood friend, whom he had to drag to training sessions before, work out in one of the spare rooms. Kenma didn’t know how to handle the way his body stirred; he needed to burn off the restlessness and unquenched desire and this was the only way that worked. Up to a point. The raw _need_ to touch you, to _have_ you, grew in him day by day.

While sweat trickled down his sensitive skin and his eyes checked the watch to see how much longer before you logged on, his mind would become clear again and his concentration sharp. It was only the resolve that he missed.

He didn’t specifically ask if there was some significant other in your life, but the sheer amount of time you kept spending online with him was indicative of your relationship status. You didn’t breach the topic either, however the way you attentively listened to his grumbling when something went wrong in the game or when he volunteered bits of information about his childhood, he felt you were genuinely invested in learning more about him. Strangely, for once, the outside attention kindled a pleasant sensation inside him, prompting him to carefully open up and invite you in. He wished so bad for you to come into his world, the real one.

_Are you one of those guys who prefer virtual girls?_

Your careless question still made him cringe, but the more time passed, the more virtual you, too, were becoming for him. Summer was already long gone and early winter had set in. While on the screen your avatar never changed, existing in deceptive timelessness, Kenma realised he didn’t even know what you looked like now, in warmer clothes. Time of the real world was a fact, a fact that was slowly starting to work against him.

It didn’t take a genius to compute that you would eventually get bored with playing a silly computer game and, since nothing else connected you, your relationship – whatever it was - would fade away. He could not use the tactic that would work on him when he got fed up with a game and offer you a new one. You were bound to get bored with the concept of gaming together and he was inexorably tied to it. Outside the virtual concept, Kenma didn’t exist in your world.

After ‘that’ night he never once attempted to steer the topic of your chats in the direction that would crystallise how you felt about him now. He wondered if you still saw him only as a friend, but kept postponing the question.

Kuroo didn’t inquire, only silently observed, but it was clear what he was thinking. It was high time for _something_ to happen; Kenma didn’t need anybody telling him that but no matter how hard he denied it, the fact was that deep down inside he was terrified.

There was so much more at stake now, he was too invested. He didn’t only long for you physically, he craved your company and the cosy routine you developed. Your rejection would mark the end of everything, but he knew he had to try. He detested this part, every bit of it, but the only way out was through.

He hated this.

The next Friday, when you were both online, he tested the waters.

“I’m thinking about watching a movie tomorrow,” Kenma’s own words sounded hollow to him. Like he would ever choose movies over gaming so out of the blue.

“So, if you want to come hang out…”

He unwittingly squeezed his eyes shut and tucked his neck into his shoulders, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“Want me to bring some apple cider like the last time?”

Your answer was almost immediate in a voice quieter than usual. The reference to the last time at first stung, then perplexed him. You were both aware that alcohol had played its part in Kenma’s uncharacteristically bold behaviour then, so why would you go and propose…

Kenma’s eyes opened wide. No way! It was not possible! He shifted in his seat, remembering that you still waited for his answer on the other side.

“Yeah,” he said faintly, on auto-pilot, feeling his cheeks burn. It was embarrassing, but there was no one here to witness the way he almost dropped the controller. His chest suddenly got too tight for his pounding heart. Striving to sound as casual as possible, as he didn’t want to scare you away, Kenma added, “We will order something to eat when you get here.”

“Sure, ok,” you readily agreed, making him want to drop everything and start cleaning his house, picking movies, checking out restaurant menus and jumping with joy, all at the same time.

* * *

I found myself looking back at the past couple of months and wondering if I had gone completely mad.

First I got caught in a dead-end pursuit of slick Kuroo who was not only nowhere near being caught, but who managed to nudge me into getting to know his secluded friend who initially only wanted to be left alone. Now I was spending almost every evening online with the guy, _after_ he tried to kiss me, playing computer games and pretending that nothing happened.

I didn’t mind, in the beginning. There wasn’t anything better to do and, besides, I did enjoy Kenma’s company, although the meetings took place virtually. But after a while, it all started to look too much like dating. We would meet regularly and, while we kept levelling up in the game, more often than not the talks we had could not be described as chit-chat to pass the time. He started to be a part of my life, someone I shared interesting things I’ve seen with, news I heard, even fears I had.

I liked his quiet, soothing voice in my ears, his peculiar sense of humour, his intelligence and, above all, his calm patience. With him, no obstacle seemed insurmountable; I felt secure with him leading our way through virtual perils. But more than that, I generally came to appreciate his opinions and wanted to hear his reactions and comments so when we started texting even during the day, I knew I was in deep.

But, allowing Kenma to take this place in my life was strange, like having a virtual boyfriend. The only difference between him and an advanced chat-bot was the fact that he actually had an address, but that didn’t make this situation any less strange. Or sustainable. Even if he was ok with it, I wasn’t. I inwardly acknowledged the longing to see him again, to interact in real life, do things together, see where this was headed. Just playing games wasn’t going to cut it, because no matter how advanced the graphics, I couldn’t put my arms around Kodzuken’s pixel-made armour.

I replayed my reaction after his sweet, clumsy attempt, so many times in my head, wondering if I had discouraged him forever.

Didn’t I get what I wanted – only a good friend?

If so, this relationship was doomed in the long run, but I feared I would come off as the worst kind of hypocrite if I prompted anything now. After all, in all this time Kenma never once gave a hint that he was in it for anything more and his disinterested started to frustrate me. I couldn’t just show up at his door, could I?

So, when his movie night proposal came, I almost didn’t believe my ears. I wondered if Kuroo was also invited, but of course I couldn’t ask that. I would just have to wait and see.

I don’t even remember what mission we were on that night because in my head, I was miles away. My mind was buzzing with excitement so much that I kept making silly mistakes, running into walls and falling into holes, but Kodzuken didn’t seem to mind – or notice - at all.

* * *

Kenma’s house looked both familiar and different bathed in pale winter colours, stripped of the rich summer foliage that adorned its surroundings when I last saw it. The walk from the station somehow seemed longer because I kept mulling over my expectations for the evening and if I was entitled to any expectations at all. The last time I left, it was exactly because of the developments I secretly wished for now.

Yes, women are complicated creatures.

I knocked on the door and didn’t have to wait long. Kenma’s pale face appeared in the opening, quickly took me in with fleeting eyes, and then moved aside to let me through.

“You could have used the code, it’s still the same,” he said quietly, while I was taking off my shoes. His hair had grown and he wore it down, hiding his face in the shadows. I almost reached out to touch it just to make sure he was real, that the man behind shiny hero Kodzuken had substance and body.

With his hands in the pouch of his loose hoodie, he walked back and assumed his usual place in the living room at the low table now turned into kotatsu. The dimness of this space brought back bitter-sweet memories and, expectedly, the big screen displayed some game Kenma had been playing while he waited on me.

“The same old or would you like to try something new?” he turned a tablet he picked up so I could view open webpages of several restaurants. I wondered whether the question held any deeper meaning or was I just reading too much into every little thing. Like the hairbrush that was conveniently placed on the low table, just withing arm’s reach.

I browsed the menus, aware they were a nifty diversion so he could actually look at me properly for the first time in a long time, not minding to put him at ease. This was his way of doing things so I decided to be patient. Actually, I used the time to settle in, become aware of a faint shampoo smell coming from Kenma and the cosy warm air from kotatsu, the familiarity of this semidarkness and the shiny, big screen. Finally, I was not just an avatar running around the virtual world there and that was a huge step forward.

We selected and ordered a nice dinner, opened the cider and sat on the floor, facing the screen.

“So, about the movie, I have…” Kenma’s fingers were already working, abruptly exiting the game without saving his progress and making the screen display a seemingly endless list of titles. I raised my eyebrows at the sheer quantity of possible choices.

“So many! I really don’t know which one to pick,” I mumbled more to myself before realising my mistake. I couldn’t expect Kenma to assert his will and take responsibility for choosing a disastrous movie, so I quickly added, “But we could continue with the campaign, if you feel like gaming?”

Maybe realising that watching a movie would only mean facing a wall together for hours in an awkward silence, Kenma quickly produced another controller. After all, he never needed prodding to start a game.

It was so easy to slip into the usual campaigning mode, where Kodzuken led and I followed in bold explorations of an open-world map, using opportunities to raise our stats and gather interesting items. Also, to talk. The fact that this time our knees almost touched under kotatsu and our eyes stole glances of each other only made things more exciting.

“So, Kuroo isn’t coming today?” I tried to sound casual as my avatar, befittingly, carefully negotiated a narrow path snaking up a precipitous cliff. Was this evening really just for the two of us?

“He’s on a business trip to Hokkaido,” Kenma curtly replied from behind his waterfall of hair, his usual hunched pose motionless but his fingers dancing with precision. Kodzuken had already climbed the summit and was breaking ice blocks that stood between him and elaborately adorned gates.

“Oh, is that so…” I smiled to myself and carelessly set off a trap Kenma had duly warned me about. In wink of an eye, my biggest concern stopped being a prospect of Kuroo showing up and shattering this idyllic evening as a swarm of aggressive were-bats threatened to throw my avatar off the cliff.

“Oh no, oh no,” was all I could shakily repeat, while my virtual hands flailed around in a futile attempt to scare them off. Naturally, the blood-thirsty beasts were anything but skittish so it was clear my strategy was picked less for its effectiveness and more because of my desperation. If I fell down, not only would we be separated by a vast distance, but my character could suffer irreparable damage and die.

Kenma’s instructions only registered when he repeated, now almost shouting, “Stick to the wall!”

Seeing Kenma really concerned for once made me feel even more panicky, but I trusted him. So, I made myself do the contra-intuitive thing, lower my arms and pull my avatar closer to the bare rock, exposing myself to the ravenous fangs. Just as my defenceless neck was about to be bitten, the flying monsters disappeared under boulders of ice that rained down on them from the mountain top. As I watched their broken bodies plummet into the abyss, it took me a long moment to realise what had happened.

I checked Kodzuken’s part of the screen and his humongous two-handed sword which he used to plough the frozen bombs over the edge, then looked at Kenma. By his expression and the commanding tone that still reverberated in my ears, I realised just how narrow this escape was.

“You almost died,” he said quietly, looking at me with concern, like he was justifying his loss of composure.

“I knew you would save me, you always do,” I smiled in a nervous knee-jerk reaction to an averted disaster, “You are my hero.”

“Really?” Kenma’s voice was even quieter, his face half-hidden behind the long hair, but the eyes that absorbed me lingered too long on mine, the tone of his question was too ambiguous and I made up my mind on the spot. Not wanting to look for hidden meanings all the time and live in uncertainty any more, I decided to act.

Supporting myself on one hand, I slowly moved closer to him, the distance between us seemingly stretching forever. Kenma turned too, his big eyes deep and soft, his mouth half-open in expectation. In the end, he didn’t wait for me to come all the way. Leaning in and joining our lips, finally, he closed his eyes to log out from the rest of the world.

There, in darkness, the real fireworks began.

I closed my eyes, drunk by the intimate moment, when I felt Kenma’s fingers gently brush the side of my cheek. The faint shampoo smell from his recently washed hair filled my nose and I realized it was still damp. He pulled me closer in exploration of the new sensations and I let him take his time and set the pace. I could tell he was a novice, blindly and tentatively feeling his way around, and I allowed him to get his fill. It was the sweetest, clumsiest and purest thing ever.

When he realized I would not rush him or push him away, he turned his body to me completely and held my face in his hands like a precious porcelain cup. His fingers were delicate and lips, unaccustomed to the lure of kisses, thirsty for affection. I sneaked a peak at his face, amazed how angelic he looked with soft shadows his closed eyelashes cast across his cheeks.

Kenma didn’t know anything could feel this good. He drank nectar from your lips like a man in a desert, cursed to return for more again and again. Even when he became dimly aware that he should let go, he was helpless, shackled to your proximity like a moth to a flame. He didn’t care about the next moment or about tomorrow, all that existed – all that he needed - was here and now.

“Kenma,” I lowered my chin to whisper his name and that stopped him, his breath catching. He moved away and struggled to keep an eye contact, so I smiled in encouragement, “I am sorry about what happened before. I wasn’t ready then…”

He shook his head, a look of determination on his face,

“This was worth the wait. It’s even better this way,” his lips were red and puffy from the intense contact, standing out on his face. The big eyes obtained a strange gleam and I realized he had something on his mind just a moment before he leaned in, now without any hesitation, and kissed me again. This time his tongue came into play, delicately and carefully sliding between my lips, looking for a playmate. He was a fast learner.

What finally stopped us was a delivery man who, sent from a restaurant we hadn’t tried yet, didn’t know the drill and kept pressing on the doorbell until Kozume finally got up and answered the door.

The evening was a tapestry of kisses interrupted by an occasional gaming session. We caressed and touched each other with devotion only newly formed couples know, then picked up the controllers. However, several minutes into the game, I would either feel Kenma’s lips on my cheek again or realise Kodzuken was not moving, only to discover the gamer had been looking at me longingly in semi-darkness, the controller in his lap forgotten. He was never asking for affection with words, but one look at him was enough to see how starved he was. After all, he had a lot of catching up to do. So, there was no other choice but to give in, even though my lips were already searing from the intense romance. But it was just so damn good to be kissing him, even through the pain.

By the time I checked my watch to leave, it was already 2 AM and this time it was not hard to do as Kenma proposed, again, and stay. We rolled out a futon and, with our legs cosily stuck in kotatsu, we let some movie play while we lounged on the floor, playing with each other’s hair, snickering and kissing, basking in tender curiosity until we fell asleep.

In the morning, Kenma was already streaming in his gaming room by the time I woke up, so I went outside to get us some late breakfast or early lunch. Not even the cold air could wipe the goofy smile off my face. When I returned, I used the entry code for the first time to let myself in. Entering somebody else’s house still felt a bit unnatural, but this was now the door to a safe place and I didn’t let anything mar the warm fuzzy feelings that nested in my chest since last night. Not even my own ‘what-if?’ and ‘now-what?’ anxiety.

When Kenma finished the session, he joined me in the living room where I combed his long hair into a bun. We ate, shut off the outside light and, expectedly, spontaneously started making out again, completely ruining his hairdo. I was like a new game he discovered, one he could not keep his hands off. The weekend was one long petting and kissing session and, by the time I actually went home on Sunday evening, I was physically exhausted but thoroughly happy.

We definitely level-upped.

* * *

On Sunday morning, while he streamed from his gaming room, a part of Kenma’s mind was replaying events from the last night. A part of him was afraid that everything that happened yesterday was only his wishful thinking and that, when he walked into the living room, you would not be there.

Then he smelled the coffee you made and from that point on, he could barely wait for the session to finish. It was hard to keep a smile off his face so he hid his nose and mouth in his loose hoodie. But, to whomever cared to look, his animated eyes betrayed his good mood.

He didn’t want breakfast, he wanted you, so when you finally finished eating, Kenma was impatient to reassure himself that the morning didn’t cancel the magic of the evening. No, your lips were still yielding and sweet, and he felt he could stay lost in your warm embrace for hours – which he did – without needing or wanting anything else.

If being intimate with somebody was this intense, no wonder Kuroo and the others were talking about women all the time, although the topics of their conversations were seldomly this subtle. Kenma also wanted to do something more than kissing, but that was a wall he never even approached, let alone explored what lay beyond. He had porn and his friends’ boastful accounts as references, but since none of those sources prepared him for the sledgehammer simple kissing sessions turned out to be, he doubted he could rely on them.

Actually, he would have to rely on you, as you seemed more experienced in this game. Would you help him gather EXPs or call him a noob and dump him for a more experienced player?

“Are you coming back tomorrow?” he whispered in your ear at one point, when he couldn’t keep the question under his armor of aloofness any longer. He hated asking for attention, it was completely against his nature, but his whole system seemed to collapse when it came to you.

“Yeah,” a quiet word was all it took to put him at ease, while your fingers gently fiddled with his hair. Kenma closed his eyes and slowly sunk into one in string of snug naps while movies rolled, one after another, for hours on the big screen.

You kept your promise and returned, and kept returning.

You were his dessert after a day spent streaming, maintaining his shares and answering questions on gaming forums. He even started thoroughly cleaning the house. Kenma was hyper productive, glad to keep himself busy until you came. He wanted to spoil you, ordering exotic dishes and showering you with trinkets he got online. He got you a matching hoodie and other casual clothes so you could slip into something more comfortable when you came over. He had half a dozen of apple cider crates delivered, so you wouldn’t have to carry them from the store.

He loved seeing your face light up after yet another meaningful trinket with a realization he had been listening to you all those months. It went both ways, so Kenma proudly sported a new phone strap keychain and several figures of his favorite game characters you bought for him in crowded stores of Akihabara he avoided.

Bliss, he lived in pure bliss. With dark clouds on the horizon.

Using toilet breaks to secretly jerk off the pent-up frustration was starting to be more and more ridiculous. Having you around was all he wanted, but everything about you – your scent, your touch, the way you moved, your fingers in his locks, your voice and kisses –was maddeningly turning him on. He suffered under a vague but persistent urge to have you quench this thirst somehow, but was so painfully clueless what to do. He kissed you, stroked your hair, face and neck with great care and passion, but never ventured lower or did anything bolder.

It must have been as frustrating for you as it was for him, and he dreaded the time you would address the elephant in the room directly.

So that evening, when you sat in front of him while he played a game on a big living-room screen, Kenma realized this could be a chance you’ve both been waiting for. When you asked for his controller to take over, he let you slip it from his fingers and steeled himself. While you failed miserably to clear a level on a platformer he had been playing, Kenma started kissing the nape of your neck, giving affection to part of you he already knew well.

Then, slowly, slowly, his fingers found a way between your hoodie and your body, puling you into a more intimate embrace. The skin of your belly was soft and warm, it practically begged to be caressed so he closed his eyes and listened to his instinct, traveling upwards towards your breasts. Ooohh, so yielding and precious, Kenma felt he floated on a cloud of hormones when he tentatively squeezed them, worried he was being too rough. But your snicker and the way you squirmed in his arms told his hands to continue exploring and so he did, never the one to shy away from a quest.

The pixlated character on the screen jumped up in a perfunctory attempt to clear an obstacle, but it was obvious your attention was elsewhere.

Kenma kissed the exposed parts of your neck and played with your breasts until one of your hands impatiently found his fingers and pulled them downward, into the unexplored dark of your sweatpants. If he stopped to analyze, he knew he would lose his courage so he boldly went forth, until he found the entrance of your moist cave. It was so easy to slip in a bit and gently feel his way around, marginally aware his breathing has become quite audible. You leaned your head back, onto his shoulder, and the controller slipped out of your lap, but none of you gave it another thought. The real jewel was right there, beneath his fingertips.

Although inexperienced, Kenma was not uninformed and recognized the bud between your folds as your clit. Praying that the extensive internet research would pay off, he used his delicate fingers on your sweet spot, relying on your reactions to guide his touches. The soft moan from your lips made him shudder with lust. By now, even through his baggy clothes, you must have felt the erection pressing against your ass, especially when you began squirming beneath his ministrations.

With one of his hands on your breast, the other did what it had been doing for years - delivering tireless, precise pressure on spots that seemed to make you catch your breath. Your fingers helped guide him a couple of times, but by then he was so aroused himself and so eager to get you off that he didn’t remember to be embarrassed for needing the instructions. 

“Oh, yeeess there, theeereee,” when you whimpered and bit your lip, arching your back desperately and pressing your head against his body, Kenma thought he was going to cum all over himself. Concentrating on keeping your trembling body in his arms, he worked you like he was chasing a high score, his own body driven feral by your ragged breaths and whines. One of your hands clasped his fingers to put more pressure between your spread legs, while the other reached back and grabbed a handful of his hair, clutching it in the last teetering seconds before your orgasm hit.

As if electrocuted, your body jolted and trembled in his arms, while your hand on his fingers still held them pressed against your hot, throbbing pussy. Kenma watched closely as your face contorted in agony and then in blissful release, beside himself with pride he was the one who took you there.

“Ooouuff, that was good!”, you slumped into his lap and rested a bit, waiting for your breath to catch, while he pulled his hand free. His clean hand caressed your hair while you lounged with your eyes closed, and – when he was sure you weren’t looking – brought fingers of the other hand to his nose to smell the sticky, transparent substance.

So, this was it, what all the guys talked about, the potion that made smart men stupid and cowards brave.

“How about you?” you turned on his lap to face him with an impish glow in your eyes and an eager smile on your lips.

“I-I am fine,” Kenma felt that his face was red; part of it was embarrassment, part pure arousal, and total a one big lie. The tent his cock pitched was practically sticking in your face, but it seemed that not all cowards could be turned brave so easily.

“Are you sure?” you gave him a second chance, pulling yourself up into a sitting position on the floor and fixing up your clothes. The moment was gone. Kenma tried to ignore the disappointment he heard in your voice, glad about the way his hair fell protectively around his face. What was wrong with him? He hadn’t felt this helplessly anxious since school. He wanted to take the next step with you so bad, dreamt about making love and doing things to you, but now – no matter how much he wanted to - he couldn’t open up to you, to let you see his unguarded side, his nakedness.

“Un,” Kenma nodded, somehow unable to hold your gaze. He swiftly got up. “I will get us something to drink. If you want to pass that level fast,” he indicated at the screen, anything to divert your attention from himself, “shoot the spider first and then jump on the rope.”

Walking into the kitchen in his socks, he opened the fridge door and pretended to look inside to cool off and hide behind it. Didn't he just take your relatioship one step back? His erection, now a bit deflated, still lingered and he was not returning until it completely disappeared.

There was absolutely zero chance of his stinging humiliation disappearing anytime soon, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around for this chapter, thanks for kudos and comments, and I hope we'll see each other soon with the continuation :)


	6. 6 (NSFW)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve and Christmas are normal working days in Japan, however dates on Christmas are usually romantic and correspond do Valentine’s day dates in the West.
> 
> Bonnenkai – a half-informal gathering of business associates, colleagues, team members or similar groups to mark ending of the year, usually in restaurants with a lot of drinking, eating and noisemaking

**CHAPTER 6**

Saying goodbye at the door was long and sweet, as always, the seed of awkwardness from earlier ameliorated by long hugs and tender exchange of kisses. You didn’t mind keeping the cab Kenma called for you waiting and neither did the cabby because his taximeter was quietly running regardless of how long your goodbyes took.

As you rode through empty streets of nighttime Tokyo, the gnawing sensation of something being _off_ returned. While Kenma was unlike any guy you’ve been with before, you expected that his reactions would be a bit different too, but him flat-out refusing sexual satisfaction while sporting a blatant erection had confused you so much you didn’t know how to react. So, until the end of the evening you continued playing the platformer game and drinking apple cider, as if nothing particularly significant happened.

Ok, so maybe your first orgasm with him didn’t call for a champagne, but not only did Kenma apparently feel no need to cuddle or comment on the experience you just shared, he didn’t seem to wish to participate at all.

What the heck?!

* * *

Kenma listlessly showered when you left, taking his time and slowly going through the motions, his mind reluctantly peering under the lid of a black box he would rather have kept hidden in a deep, dark place.

He had been doing so well, having his life all set and figured out. He lived his childhood dream doing only the things he liked, obtaining full financial stability without having to join the standard corporative rat race or even really trying too hard. He was a winner, unconcerned with the outside world and troublesome people who crowded it. As long as he had electricity, his gadgets and functioning delivery services, he couldn’t have cared less about what transpired beyond his front door.

Things have changed, however, and Kenma needed to change too.

Before dressing in his pajamas, he took a deep breath and forced himself to take a scrutinizing look at his naked body in the full-length bathroom mirror. The unnatural lights were unflattering, revealing a pale-skinned, slightly built body and a pair of skittish eyes. He started to see some progress from his home workout sessions of the past months and he did start filling out from regular meals with you, but Kenma had a long, long way to go before he could compare to a typical male idol or any of his friends, for that matter.

In his head, he ticked away at the list of guys he usually invited over for New Year’s parties, immediately eliminating professional athletes like Bokuto or Shoyo who looked chiseled due to their grueling training regimes. Even so, Kuroo and the rest had more defined bodies and effortlessly exuded an air of masculinity Kenma could only dream about. His strong points were hidden from prying eyes and his brainpower and gaming skill needed no proving.

While already obtaining accomplishments that will take the others their whole lifetimes to achieve, somehow he still got left behind. Wasn’t he the only one of them who completely ignored his sexuality, the one who never suffered a bad break up or talked about new love interest like a lovestruck idiot, the one who never did something stupid because of infatuation or who longed for somebody he couldn’t have? After sharing their stories and accounts, knowing Kenma’s careful nature, the other guys would invariably conclude he was smarter than them for not letting women rule his world.

They were wrong.

He wasn’t keeping himself safe from a heartache, he was keeping himself cut off from love. The thought of opening up and revealing his emotions and his body to somebody else with the power to hurt him terrified Kenma. Winning in games, sports and business was done by covering up your weak points, not by revealing your soft side. By avoiding things and carefully nurturing the air of indifference, he never developed a system for dealing with rejection. To avoid pain, it was easier not to care, not to get involved. But, he _did_ care about you and wanted to keep the good thing you two had, to move forward. In order to do that, he knew, he had to break the cocoon, the armor that was too stifling.

It terrified him - the great unknown outside - but that was exactly the space he needed to grow.

Kenma was an intelligent man, he knew all this already, but knowing and doing the rational thing was not one and the same.

The reflection stared back at him with a stern, worried expression. Even though it was hard, Kenma forced himself to look closely at it, to study each shape and texture of his torso, his legs and neck, his dick and arms, and not a thing he saw seemed to live up to the image he thought you would find appealing. The only thing about himself which he liked was a bun you crafted on his head (you loved playing with his hair, much to Kenma’s silent delight), because he felt it was _the_ one thing he got an explicit approval for. The other parts he preferred to keep hidden – even from you – unconfident about the impression they would make.

It became painful to gauge his potential value as a man, a lover. What did he have to offer, when it really came down to it?

He recalled the expression you obtained as his fingers brought you over the edge, both the agony and the elation, and Kenma couldn’t fully enjoy the arousing effect of that memory without the dreadful realization that it would be impossible for him to reveal such an unguarded expression to you. That level of letting go went against everything bashful Kenma knew or did since ever he could remember.

A laptop on his gameroom desk lit up with a new voice message. It was one of his friends from many virtual campaigns.

_(“Oi, Kodzuken! They are killing us out there! Don’t tell me you are sleeping?!?”)_

His reflection now stared back at him with a scrunched-up face. He knew he messed up and was spending way too much time with you, leaving his title undefended and his online teammates stranded. Most of the time he did a good job of ignoring that fact.

Maybe he too was becoming a lovestruck idiot who neglected other things in life, that seemed so important before, because of a woman. Something about that notion softened the expression in the mirror, curving its lips upwards.

Kenma found that this smile was another thing he could learn to like about himself.

* * *

I came over again on Christmas day, letting myself in and leaving shoes in genkan, knowing that Kenma would be in the gameroom, streaming. The big living room always looked a bit strange without anything animated on the screen and the owner sitting at the low table, diligently disposing of virtual foes and obstacles. I cleaned up a bit while I waited on him, serving us each a slice of a Christmas cake.

Kenma didn’t mention any special plans for today, but I wanted to mark the occasion somehow, even if the romantic atmosphere was only a marketing propaganda. Every girl wants to feel special today. So a wore a simple but eye-catching red dress I got for the occasion, just to stir things up a bit, hoping that Kenma would appreciate the change.

I turned on the TV and browsed through channels, trying to find one that didn’t report on Christmas street decorations or interview happy couples that strolled through the neon light wonderlands with goofy smiles on their faces. Kenma got held up and the cakes started to lose their forms, slowly sagging in the warm air of the house. Half melted and deformed, they just wouldn’t taste as good, but I didn’t want to eat my piece without Kenma.

When he finally opened the door of the gameroom and emerged in loose track pants stuffed down his socks, Kenma immediately took stock of the cakes, my red dress and the Christmas special on the screen. The smile that danced on his lips disappeared immediately in realisation as he quietly mumbled, more to himself than to me,

“I didn’t get you a gift.”

“It is ok, Christmas is just a consumeristic ploy anyway,” I attempted a smile, although my attire and the served dessert pointedly indicated that, even if it was a ploy, I totally fell for it. What really stung was knowing that with Kenma it was not a matter of money, it was the thought that lacked. He either didn’t care or didn’t remember to care.

“I lost track of time...” he continued to justify himself softly even when he was sitting next to me, reluctant to either touch me or help himself to the cake, like he didn’t deserve either. “I didn’t go outside lately so I didn’t notice they’ve put up the decorations…”

“It is not a big deal, really,” my face wore a fake expression, but I didn’t want to keep ruining this evening. Maybe I was too demanding, it wasn’t like we were dating that long, or that we ever went on a date at all.

“I would like to get you a present,” Kenma already managed to produce a tablet from somewhere, ready to make an express delivery order. “Please, tell me something you’d like to have.”

I shook my head, stuffing in a mouthful of sweet cake to fight the bitter taste in my mouth. In a way, seeing his hectic demeanour and panicky eyes was far worse than sitting alone in a new outfit and gazing at a saggy cake.

“A necklace? To go with that… dress…?” he inquired, giving the attire and me wearing it an exhaustive look. Instead of seducing him, it had a totally opposite effect – Kenma became painfully self-conscious of his worn-out clothes and unkempt appearance that was completely out-of-sync with mine. Feeling inadequate, he shrunk back.

“I am sorry I forgot,” with his eyes fixed on the cake in front of him, he lowered the tablet in a defeated gesture. He couldn’t tell you that – in his defence - he never had someone to do these things with and was still learning what it meant to be a partner. The bottom line was – you remembered and he didn’t.

“If I really do get a wish,” I started, wondering if I would be asking for too much, “I want to go out for a walk in Roppongi with you.”

Although it was impossible to imagine starry-eyed Kenma with a goofy grin strolling among decorated Christmas trees and fake Santa Clauses with my hand under his arm, I still wanted to be a part of the life of the city as one of those couples whose presence warmed the cold winter streets. I wanted to have that experience, even though I knew it was much harder for Kenma to agree to that than it would be to buy me an expensive necklace.

The hesitation on his face was clear, but he finally looked at me and nodded, his mind made up, “I need to change.”

“And eat your cake, too,” this time, my smile was truly genuine.

* * *

A cab dropped you off in front of Tsutaya books & Starbucks in Keyaki street. Kenma shuffled through alley of tree boughs spangled with neon stars with his eyes glued to the pavement. He could not appreciate the magical allure, too hyper-aware of you walking beside him, of the crowds and confusing noises and sounds, car engines, snippets of conversations and melodies, blinking lights in all colours from every direction that overwhelmed his senses. There was nothing he could control, only try to avoid. He hated walking without a set destination; engaging in an aimless, unproductive activity was the most odious waste of time for Kenma, even when it didn’t involve excess sweating. But he promised to fulfil your wish so here he was.

And here you were, too.

This was a stupid and troublesome idea, but if it made you happy, Kenma decided donning proper clothes and accompanying you would be a small sacrifice to make.

Glancing at you from the corner of his eye, he had to admit that, even despite the needless exposure to people and cold, he was happy to be together like this. He never took you out on a proper date because he was too stuck in his comfortable rut, without giving much though about what you would like to do.

He had many new things to learn about relationships and dealing with new situations without a tutorial was a nuisance.

Knowing it would be the right thing to do, he steeled himself and took your hand in his, desperately trying to make the gesture seem natural. It surely didn’t feel natural to him. Holding someone’s warm hand, syncing your footsteps and your pace, joining into a single unit was a first for him. It took adjusting but soon he started to relax and forget about passers-by and their curious eyes. If he concentrated on what you were saying and things you pointed out, he learned he could enjoy the experience.

Then his phone rang.

“Hey Kenma,” Kuroo’s tipsy voice from the other side was, again, resonating above the din of some crowded and loud place, “I’ve been meaning to call you earlier but I just couldn’t get a breather. It’s bonnenkai season, what can you do? Anyway, I hope you remembered to get a Christmas present for a certain someone.” He snickered significantly and, getting no response, added in a louder voice, “Hello, are you there?”

“Too late,” Kenma’s quiet, remorseful tone said it all.

“Oh.” even Kuroo paused a bit at the implications of his friend’s negligence, then asked in incredulous voice, “What’s that noise? Where are you?”

“In Roppongi,” Kenma replied curtly, his face darkening. Kuroo couldn’t stop mothering him even now and, at the moment, it was plain embarrassing.

“You’re outside? At this hour?” Kuroo’s jovial tone morphed into a genuine concern in a heartbeat, “Did something happen?”

“I am on a date. Have to go. Bye.” In contrast to his terse replies, when Kenma pressed the disconnect button, he sported a faint smile. Even though he knew it was childish, he couldn’t help feeling a certain satisfaction. Finally, he was the one blowing Kuroo off because of a girl.

“Sorry about that,” Kenma turned to you apologetically and you only dismissively smiled, charming him again. Were you really here with him? A fuzzy warmth smouldered in his belly even though he had no mulled wine yet. He could not tell you directly, not yet, but he found your cold-pinched cheeks adorable in the silvery night and just holding your hand made him feel like he was on the top of the world. It was that simple.

Kenma started to understand what all those couples who seemed to be gazing in each other’s eyes for hours were going through. Right now, that was all he wanted to do too, forgetting all his flaws and shortcomings. Did this mean he was in love?

If so, this overly self-conscious man didn’t care if he looked silly for once.

“Would you like something warm to drink?” he pointed at a hot cocoa stand, lured in by the aromatic smell and, when you readily nodded, led the way. Warmed up by the sweet beverage, you strolled unhurriedly through the city, seamlessly merging among countless other couples who were, just like you, discovering that no winter wind could beat red hot infatuation.

After you visited other Christmas market stands and ate and drank your fill, you took a cab home. The walk was romantic and nice, but there was no privacy on the streets and Kenma couldn’t wait to have a place where he could kiss and hold you, despite the ambivalent feelings the return entailed.

So when you took him by the hand and led him to the bedroom, he followed with his heart pounding its way out of his chest, partly due to excitement partly due to suspense. He desperately wanted to do this right, for you both, but was faced with so many doubts, fears and trepidations, he could barely think. Maybe that was a blessing in disguise, because in bed there was no room for logic and analysing.

Kneeling on the covers in front of him, your lips found his and Kenma closed his eyes, letting himself feel the familiar and comforting sensation of your touch. He gently traced the curve of your waist and then the outline of your breasts, the memory of how soft they were, naked, in the palm of his hand still vivid in his memory. Having you in his arms and kissing you felt wonderful but when your fingers undid his bun and let the long hair fall down his back, all he could think of was what will your fingers work on next.

True enough, you sneaked beneath his hoodie and playfully pressed your still chilly hands to his warm belly, making him shudder and snap his eyes open. It was not just the tactile shock, it was an invasion of the space he didn’t share with anybody yet. Yes, he wanted you here but he also wanted to hide. He watched you with eyes of a trapped animal.

“I have an idea,” you whispered, planting a placating peck on the corner of his lips, “Let’s turn off the lights.”

“Yeah,” Kenma could barely find his voice, but he did get up and flip the switch. In darkness you could not see his cheeks turn red or his unathletic body, his clumsiness, or a million other ways by which he could disappoint you.

Your gentle hands found him again and this time the touch on his skin was hungrier, bolder. Of course you would be curious. Kenma helped you take off his shirt and then assisted with your dress. He was way more concerned with the way you would think of him, than to wonder what you looked like with no clothes on. The feel of your warm body pressed against his while your lips pelted kisses alongside his neck was a strange, intoxicating sensation. He let it lull him into a sweet drunkenness.

He could smell your scent, only so much stronger, and wherever he ventured, he discovered your skin, calling to be touched more. It was instinctive; when his head stopped thinking, Kenma’s body knew what do to, what it liked, what it wanted. The darkness made him bolder.

Lying naked beside each other, you explored your bodies thoroughly, taking your time to relax. Your breasts, that were object of his many fantasies, fit so nicely in palms of his hands, the stubborn nipples pushing against his caresses. He tentatively licked their buds, eager to commit their shape and texture to his memory, to get to know you in a whole new way. Your hips and navel were also soon drawn onto his mental map, plotted by his tender explorations, but he didn’t dare do venture further. Frankly, now that he had you here, he didn’t know what do to with you.

Fortunately, you seemed to have an idea.

When your fist cupped his cock, Kenma’s breath caught. Unaccustomed to anyone else’s touches, his erection pranced in your hand, completely disengaged from its owner’s panicky mind. Would you think he was too small? Weirdly shaped? Ugly?

Your gentle tugs, however, stopped his rapid stream of thoughts as pure arousal overrode his ability to think straight. Or to kiss you, touch you or acknowledge you in any way. All that existed was the smouldering lust you stoked inside of him. Sensations brought by your unfamiliar hand were overwhelming and at that moment all Kenma could do was passively receive.

Even freaked out, he was rapidly approaching his release. This was not good. Embarrassed, he gently stilled your hand.

“I’m.. I’m too close…” Kenma murmured the first words since the light went off, feeling he was shattering a cosy fairy-tale you’ve been building so far.

“That’s ok,” you assured him in a velvety voice, feeling the dick in your hand desperately twitch. _It_ definitely didn’t want you to stop. “Would you like to go all the way?”

Kenma’s body, warm and covered in fine perspiration, remained pressed to yours, the breathing, the heartbeat – everything about him screaming out his raw desire, but still he hesitated.

“I have never… done this,” he finally admitted in a wavering voice, feeling both relieved and troubled. The tension in his groin was unbearable and just the memory of his fingers inside your tight, slippery pussy was almost enough to send him overboard, but that was far from a romantic notion of making love for hours. He knew he could not deliver and it was killing him.

“That is ok too,” your voice was intimate in his ear, your lips tickling his earlobe, your hips moving over to his. “I don’t expect you to last. This isn’t about me, it is my Christmas present to you.”

This time, Kenma didn’t hesitate, turning off the thinking brain and reaching out to pull you in closer and lie on top of you. Your body was warm and soft beneath him as your hand blindly led him inside. He felt your lower lips cushion the tip of his dick and his hips instinctively thrust forward, penetrating into the garden of pleasure, the ultimate treasure den.

Was he floating on a cloud?

His body repeated the motion, again and again, filling every cell of with expanding ecstasy.

“Oh, shit!” he panted and held his breath in order not to openly groan when a sudden explosion spread from his lower belly, taking him by surprise. This wasn’t supposed to happen, not this fast! But the orgasm that hit him was unstoppable, his mind wiped completely clean for a long moment.

When he came to his senses, he laid splayed, breathing shallowly on top of your giggling body and your hand was removing his messy hair from his face.

“So-sorry,” he mumbled, aware he had been drooling, but your lips shut him up quite effectively. He wanted to apologise for cumming inside of you, for not making this a more pleasant – and longer – experience for you too, for his inadequate size, lengths, girth, technique,… but you were ahead of him.

“I am so glad to be, you know, your first…” your arms were hugging him tightly and maybe it was the hormones, maybe the overwhelming sensation of being accepted, but Kenma thought your embrace felt more intimate now, more wholesome, dissipating his fears and doubts. This was a safe place. So he decided not to move just yet and doze off with the sound of your heartbeat resonating through his dreams.

Later, when he recuperated and his nimble gamer’s fingers took care of you, he consumed his gift again and managed to last a bit longer, but neither of you cared about his performance. He had a lot to learn and you were happy to teach him, one lesson at a time.

After all, Kenma was the best when it came to levelling-up.

* * *

Later that night, when Kenma’s phone vibrated, it took him a long time to decide to take his friend’s call.

“Don’t tell me you are sleeping already?” Kuroo asked in a deep, raspy voice. Too much smoke, karaoke and cold drinks. But he was somewhere quiet now, sounding a bit worn out and completely sober. He was probably walking home to clear his head.

Now that Kenma thought about it, ever since you started spending evenings with him, Kuroo inconspicuously disappeared. Kenma was too occupied with the budding romance to notice his best friend’s absence, but now he wondered where had Kuroo cured his hangovers and ate his late dinners.

“I was just about to go online,” Kenma replied truthfully. Kodzuken had a title to win back and tonight he felt invincible.

“So, how did the date go?” Kuroo’s footsteps were echoing through empty streets on the other side of the line. He was trudging alone.

Kenma hesitated, unsure how to respond.

“Well?” the footsteps stopped.

“Kuro,” the gamer paused, feeling his chest tighten, “Thank you for meddling. This time.”

He was smiling, feeling his friend’s responding smile through the space – and no distance at all – between them.

“Un, sure,” Kuroo cleared his throat and continued walking. “It is so friggin’ cold outside at this hour…”

“If you’re somewhere in the neighbourhood, why don’t you drop by?” Kenma glanced at your content, napping face and your resting form, bundled up in warm covers, “We have to take care not to make too much noise, though.”

“You got it!” Kuroo grinned and raised his arm to hail the first available cab with a rekindled energy. “The entry code is still the same, right?”

"Un," Kenma nodded, his hand affectionately caressinng his sleeping treasure.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers, I hope you stayed until the end :). Writing Kenma was a challenge for me, so I hope I managed to weave an engaging story. Tell me what you think!


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